THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 


UNIT.  OF  CALIF.  LTBTUTlY.  LOS  ANGELES 


'Listen,  old  man" — she  cried,  "is  it  not  something  to  know 
that  you  have  to  look  for  a  live  gringo  instead 
of  a  dead  one:" 


THE   COAST   OF 
OPPORTUNITY 


BY 

PAGE  PHILIPS 

AUTHOR  o?  "THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  WAVING  PALM,"  "AT  BAY."  ./ 


ILLUSTRATED 

BY 
WILLIAM  L.  HOWES 


NEW  YORK 
THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT.  1917,  BY 
THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  MR.  MARR  KEEPS  AN  APPOINTMENT  n 

II.  THE  LANDS  OF  HAPPINESS    ...  27 

III.  THE  DISCOVERY 37 

IV.  A  GAME  OF   CARDS 49 

V.     A  SPORTING  CHANCE 65 

VI.  A  SPOKE  IN  THE  WHEEL  ....  79 

VII.  TREASON       ........  97 

VIII.  FARRAND  CROWDS   His  LUCK     .     .  109 

IX.  THE  TRAP    .      ....'..      .  127 

X.  CROSS   CURRENTS     .     ...     .     .  135 

XI.  AN  UNWILLING  GUEST     ...      .144 

XII.  AT  THE  END  OF  THE  STREET  .     .      .  159 

XIII.  MARR  HEARS  ENOUGH     .      .     .      .  171 

XIV.  WHEN  THIEVES  FALL  OUT  .      .      .  182 
XV.  PEPE  BRINGS  SOME  NEWS  ....  191 

XVI.     LOST  IN  THE  BUSH 206 

XVII.     No  MORE  CHANCES 221 

XVIII.  WHAT  DE  BOER  FOUND  ....  232 

XIX.  ON  THE  OLD  WOOD- ROAD     .     .      .  243 

XX.  A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION   .     .      .  255 

XXI.  To  RIGHT  THE  WRONG    ....  270 

XXII.  THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS  .     .      .  279 

XXIII.     HOMING        292 


2132257 


THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 


THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

CHAPTER  I 

MR.   MARK  KEEPS   AN  APPOINTMENT 

IT  was  early  morning  when  Dick  Bristow  swung 
himself  into  the  saddle  and  set  forth  on  his  five- 
hour  ride  to  the  railroad.  White,  cumulus 
clouds  rested  upon  the  circle  of  the  horizon,  like 
an  enormous  barrier  of  full-blown  cotton-bolls 
rolled  up  by  some  giant  upon  the  rim  of  a  huge 
green  dish.  And  as  Dick  set  his  horse  into  a 
smart  singlefoot  it  seemed  to  him  almost  as  if 
there  were  enchantment  in  the  very  air.  The 
quick  movement  of  the  hoofs  beneath  him,  beat- 
ing regularly  upon  the  worn  trail  in  a  muffled 
patter,  brought  him  no  nearer  to  that  fleecy  corral. 
A  few  minutes  later,  as  the  rider  approached 
a  fringe  of  palms  that  marked  the  course  of  a 
waterway,  his  imaginative  mood  succumbed  to  the 

ii 


1 2     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

reality  of  material  things.  Sending  his  mount 
down  the  steep  bank  of  the  river,  which  at  that 
season  of  the  year — it  was  then  mid-winter — was 
little  more  than  a  sluggish  creek,  Dick  drew  -his 
feet  out  of  his  stirrups  and  held  them  high  against 
his  pony's  flanks  as  he  splashed  through  the  ford. 

Dick  Bristow  noted  with  satisfaction  the  depth 
of  the  humus  as  revealed  on  the  opposite  bank 
where  the  swollen  river  had  cut  it.  He  knew  that 
that  fertile,  chocolate  colored  blanket  was  spread 
thick  over  the  tract  of  land  that  lay  in  front  of 
him.  And  it  belonged  to  him — acres  upon  acres 
of  it.  That  was  the  strangest  part  of  it  all. 

"Easy,  boy!"  he  cautioned,  as  the  dun  pony 
floundered  out  of  the  water.  Then  a  quick 
scramble  brought  them  to  the  top  of  the  sharp 
slope ;  and  the  lord  of  the  domain  was  on  his  own 
soil. 

But  the  place  boasted  no  castle.  There  was 
material,  a-plenty,  for  its  building,  however.  The 
virgin  forest  crowded  close  to  the  river's  edge. 
And  Bristow's  eyes  rested  appraisingly  upon  huge 
black  trunks  of  mahogany  and  the  gray  of  cedar. 
There  were  other  trees,  too,  for  which  there  is 
no  English  name.  He  knew  that  there  were  mil- 
lions of  feet  of  marketable  timber  on  the  prop- 


MR.  MARK  KEEPS  APPOINTMENT  13 

erty.  Had  he  not  spent  months  in  assuring  him- 
self that  the  miracle  was  real? 

Already  the  tropics  had  set  their  mark  on  him. 
His  face  was  tanned  to  a  red  bronze,  in  con- 
trast with  which  his  forehead,  when  he  removed 
his  hat,  showed  startlingly  white.  From  the  cor- 
ners of  his  resolute  blue  eyes  tiny  lines  radiated  in 
fan  fashion — the  result  of  much  squinting  through 
southern  sunshine.  Always  lean,  his  face  was  now 
a  trifle  drawn,  like  that  of  an  athlete  slightly  over- 
trained. But  that  was  only  the  effect  of  the  hot 
climate.  Dick's  shoulders  and  arms  and  legs  were 
as  powerfully  muscled  as  they  had  been  some  five 
years  before,  when  he  had  stepped  out  of  the  win- 
ning shell  upon  a  float  in  the  Thames  and  his  name 
had  been  inscribed  on  Harvard's  honor  roll  of 
famous  oarsmen. 

But  of  all  the  characteristics  that  stamped  him 
as  different  from  themselves,  his  Mexican  neigh- 
bors had  seized  upon  his  chin  as  being  the  most 
notable.  A  native,  when  speaking  to  another  of 
"Meester  Breestow,"  invariably  curled  the  palm 
of  his  hand  over  his  own  chin,  thereby  making  a 
sort  of  Indian  sign  to  designate  the  gringo  who 
had  cast  his  lot  among  them.  Dick's  chin  did, 
indeed,  dominate  his  whole  face.  Of  astonishing 


i4     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

strength,  it  bespoke  for  its  owner  an  undoubted 
ability  to  make  his  way  through  a  world  of  tumult 
and  hard  knocks.  And  as  events  developed  in  that 
land  of  hot  passions  and  easy  morality  it  was  just 
as  well  for  Dick  Bristow  that  he  was  molded  of 
stern  stuff. 

On  this  morning,  when  Dick  made  his  early 
start  from  Jose  Crispo's  house,  after  a  breakfast 
consisting  of  a  cup  of  muddy  black  coffee,  and 
nothing  else,  he  felt  that  at  last  his  months  of  ef- 
fort were  about  to  bear  fruit.  He  had  already 
succeeded  in  interesting  a  company  of  American 
promoters  in  his  development  scheme.  Their  final 
decision  hinged  upon  his  ability  to  persuade  the 
South  Eastern  Railway  Company  of  Mexico  to 
construct  a  spur  leading  from  its  main  line  to  Las 
Alegrias — Dick's  estate.  He  had  made  overtures 
to  the  railway  authorities ;  and  on  that  day  he  ex- 
pected to  learn  their  answer.  Mr.  Julian  Marr, 
the  English  president  of  the  road,  was  then  on  a 
tour  of  inspection  of  the  South  Eastern's  prop- 
erties and  Dick  had  an  appointment  to  meet  the 
famous  transportation  magnate  at  the  railroad 
town  of  Rio  Chico,  a  good  ten  leagues'  journey 
from  Las  Alegrias. 

The  morning  was  half  gone  and  the  sun  blister- 


MR.  MARK  KEEPS  APPOINTMENT  15 

ing  hot  when  he  tied  his  sweating  horse  beneath 
the  shelter  in  front  of  a  cross-roads  country  store. 
There  he  breakfasted  on  the  best  that  the  store- 
keeper could  provide,  for  the  big  gringo  had  al- 
ready made  many  friends  among  the  natives. 
They  found  him  unexpectedly  simpatico — those 
childlike  Mexicans,  who  look  with  suspicion,  if 
not  absolute  distrust,  upon  most  Northerners.  But 
Dick  had  won  their  hearts  completely.  Not  only 
had  he  picked  up  a  working  knowledge  of  their 
language  in  a  surprisingly  short  time;  he  had 
slipped  as  easily  into  their  ways.  No  countryman 
could  drink  from  a  garafon  with  greater  uncon- 
cern than  he — and  it  is  no  simple  feat  for  most 
novices  to  lift  one  of  those  heavy  earthenware 
jugs  and  pour  water  into  his  gaping  mouth  from 
its  small  spout,  which  in  all  politeness  the  lips  must 
never  touch. 

That  was  only  one  of  Dick's  newly  acquired 
accomplishments.  He  even  ate  the  native  dishes 
with  gusto,  greasy  as  they  often  were.  And  now 
he  partook  of  fried  pig  and  plantains — also  fried 
— with  a  good  will  that  made  him  doubly  welcome. 
It  did  not  matter  to  him  that  there  was  only  one 
spoon  on  the  rude  table,  with  which  each  filled 
his  plate  when  it  was  empty.  And  as  for  forks 


1 6     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

— they  simply  did  not  exist  in  that  wilderness. 
Dick's  fingers  sufficed  for  all  practical  purposes, 
while  the  dampened  cloth  that  was  passed  around 
the  board  at  the  conclusion  of  the  meal  took  the 
place  of  napkins  and  finger-bowls  alike. 

"Un  muy  buen  muchachof"  So  Dick's  friends 
pronounced  him  a  mighty  good  fellow,  when  he 
had  ridden  on  again.  It  was  not  the  first  time  he 
had  taken  pot-luck  with  them. 

It  is  always  pleasant  to  have  friends.  It  is 
doubly  comforting  in  a  foreign  land  to  know  that 
there  is  no  question  of  one's  welcome.  And  as 
Dick  neared  the  end  of  his  journey — for  Rio 
Chico  was  now  less  than  an  hour's  ride  distant — 
he  felt  that  whatever  might  be  the  decision  of 
Julian  Marr,  there  were  worse  places  to  spend 
one's  life  than  Las  Alegrias,  those  "happy  lands" 
which  a  trick  of  fortune  had  bestowed  upon  him. 

At  Rio  Chico  there  was  an  unwonted  stir.  And 
always  Rio  Chico  was  a  busy  place,  with  its  great 
sugar-factory,  belonging  to  the  railway  interests. 
The  chief  of  that  successful  enterprise,  Julian 
Marr,  had  conceived  the  masterly  plan  not  only 
of  constructing  the  railway,  but  of  providing 
freight  for  it  to  haul  as  well.  At  intervals  along 


MR.  MARK  KEEPS  APPOINTMENT  17 

the  line  were  great  structures,  like  that  at  Rio 
Chico,  which  were  operated  day  and  night,  Sun- 
days and  week-days  alike,  during  the  months  of 
the  cane  harvest — the  zafra,  as  the  natives  know 
it. 

The  particular  beauty  of  such  an  arrangement 
lay  in  the  fact  that  by  its  means  the  railroad  was 
not  dependent  upon  outside  patronage  for  its  sup- 
port, with  the  result  that  it  might  charge  outsiders 
whatever  freight  rates  it  pleased.  They  might 
object — they  might  even  cease  making  shipments. 
But  the  Company  could  go  serenely  on  about  its 
business,  secure  in  the  comfortable  knowledge  that 
abundant  profits  were  assured. 

On  the  day  of  Dick  Bristow's  appointment  with 
Marr  there  was  even  more  bustle  than  ever  upon 
the  Company's  property.  Men  were  hurriedly 
putting  the  final  touches  of  preparation  to  grass- 
plots  and  flower-beds  and  walks,  in  anticipation  of 
the  president's  visit.  Within  the  factory,  mean- 
while, machinists  madly  polished  metal  wherever 
they  could  find  it.  And  upon  the  siding  a  great 
mogul  locomotive  kicked  cane-cars  back  and  forth. 
Ordinarily  the  factory-manager,  Farrand,  was  able 
to  secure  only  a  decrepit  relic  for  that  purpose. 
But  now  everybody  was  on  his  mettle.  The  man- 


1 8     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

ager  of  the  road  wished  to  impress  his  chief  with 
the  excellent  condition  of  its  equipment.  Dis- 
creditable rolling-stock  had  been  thoughtfully 
shunted  out  of  sight. 

Even  Wade  Farrand  himself,  a  protege  of 
Marr's  whom  that  personage  had  placed  in  a 
position  ordinarily  filled  by  a  man  at  least  ten 
years  older — for  Farrand  was  hardly  turned  thirty 
— even  he  was  preparing  the  way  for  the  arrival 
of  his  patron.  At  the  moment  when  his  man- 
servant announced  Bristow's  arrival  Farrand  was 
engaged  in  shifting  a  small,  framed  motto  upon 
the  walls  of  his  sitting-room.  It  was  one  of  those 
illuminated  legends  which  of  late  years  have 
crowded  out  the  God-bless-our-homes  of  an  earlier 
and  less  calculating  generation.  Farrand  let  his 
caller  wait  while  he  stood  back  and  surveyed  his 
re-arrangement.  He  had  tacked  the  inscription — 
it  was  a  passage  from  Carlyle — beneath  a  large 
photograph  of  Julian  Marr;  and  he  smiled  as  he 
read  the  sentiment.  Placed  in  juxtaposition  with 
the  portrait  there  could  be  no  mistake  as  to  the 
compliment  implied.  "Know  what  thou  canst 
work  at;  and  work  at  it,  like  a  Hercules!" — those 
were  the  words  on  which  Farrand  depended  to 


MR.  MARK  KEEPS  APPOINTMENT  19 

suffuse  the  great  Englishman  with  a  gentle  glow 
of  self-appreciation.  The  motto  had  lately  hung 
beneath  another  photograph — that  of  Mr.  Oliver 
Harmon,  Farrand's  immediate  superior,  who  had 
oversight  of  all  the  sugar-estates  of  the  Company. 
Farrand  only  hoped  that  Harmon  was  not  travel- 
ing with  Mr.  Marr. 

Dick  Bristow  had  made  Farrand's  acquaintance 
weeks  before.  He  was  obliged  to  admit  to  him- 
self that  he  did  not  like  the  fellow,  for  there  was  a 
certain  craftiness  in  the  manager's  pale,  roving 
eyes,  which  seemed  always  to  avoid  Dick's  own. 
At  the  same  time,  Dick  saw  that  he  was  a  man 
of  ability.  His  position,  certainly,  was  no  sine- 
cure. The  oversight  of  any  enterprise  of  the 
size  of  that  at  Rio  Chico  must  surely  call  for 
qualities  of  tact,  judgment  and  determination. 
The  labor  element  alone,  made  up  as  it  was  of 
various  races — Mexicans,  Indians,  Jamaica  nig- 
gers, Gallegos  (Spaniards  from  the  Province  of 
Galicia),  Canary  Islanders,  and  here  and  there 
a  slant-eyed  coolie — was  enough  to  discourage  any 
but  the  stout-hearted.  But  Wade  Farrand  had 
risen  to  the  requirements  of  his  office.  Even  his 
severest  critics — and  there  were  many  among  his 


20     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

employees  who  liked  to  find  fault  with  him — 
even  they  had  to  acknowledge  the  big  chap's 
capacity  for  administration. 

"Hello,  Bristow!"  Farrand  said,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  his  caller.  "I  see  you  can't  stay  away 
from  civilization  long.  .  .  .  How  goes  it  on  your 
principality  ?"  He  always  appeared  vastly  amused 
by  Dick's  affairs. 

"Everything's  fine,  thanks  I"  Dick  told  him. 

"Good!     Not  ready  to  quit  yet,  eh?" 

"Not  a  thought  of  such  a  thing!"  Dick  assured 
him  with  a  grin. 

Farrand  put  a  cigarette  between  his  lips.  The 
smallness  of  his  mouth  was  accentuated  by  the 
generous  expanse  of  his  fat  face.  But  there  was 
nothing  generous  about  the  fellow's  nature.  He 
pulled  another  cigarette  out  of  his  case  and  held 
it  grudgingly  toward  his  visitor,  with  the  air  of 
one  conferring  a  favor  upon  an  inferior  being. 

"No,  thank  you!"  Dick  said  drily.  "My  own 
are  good  enough." 

"Oh — very  well!"  Farrand  rejoined,  returning 
the  cigarette  to  his  silver  case.  "Sit  down,  any- 
how, and  we'll  have  a  drink."  That  was  one 
thing  that  Wade  Farrand  was  always  ready  to 
share  with  another.  The  merest  glance  at  his 


MR.  MARK  KEEPS  APPOINTMENT  21 

over-blown  figure  told  one  in  what  direction  the 
man's  weakness  lay. 

But  Dick  shook  his  head.  He  was  of  no  mind 
to  accept  Farrand's  hospitality.  With  him  a  drink 
was  something  to  be  indulged  in  only  with  friends. 

"I  want  to  see  Mr.  Marr,"  he  explained.  "His 
secretary  wrote  me  that  he  would  be  here  to- 
day. .  .  .  What  time  do  you  expect  him?" 

"He  ought  to  be  here  within  an  hour,"  Far- 
rand  answered.  "But  I  doubt  if  he  can  see  you 
this  trip.  It's  only  a  flying  visit,  you  know.  He's 
to  have  luncheon,  go  through  the  factory  with  me, 
and  then  he  leaves  at  once  for  Mexico  City.  .  .  . 
You'd  better  try  to  get  in  touch  with  him  some 
other  time." 

Dick  saw  that  he  might  expect  no  favors  from 
that  quarter.  But  he  had  no  intention  of  starting 
back  on  the  last  half  of  his  fifty-mile  ride  with- 
out having  accomplished  the  purpose  of  his 
journey. 

"I'll  stick  around,"  he  said  firmly. 

"Oh,  yes — I'd  advise  you  to,"  said  Farrand. 
"I'll  see  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

Over  in  the  native  settlement  beyond  the  rail- 
road tracks  Dick  hobnobbed  with  the  storekeepers 
while  he  waited  the  coming  of  Julian  Marr's 


22     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

special  train.  He  had  consumed  sundry  cups  of 
black  coffee  andnumerous  cigarettes  before  Marr's 
private  car  was  switched  into  a  siding.  And  from 
the  platform  of  the  railroad  station  he  watched 
Farrand  welcome  his  benefactor  and  escort  the 
stocky  figure  to  his  house,  along  with  a  slender  and 
youthful  vice-president  who  accompanied  the  great 
man. 

Dick  went  over  to  the  Company's  office  then  and 
cooled  his  heels  while  the  British  lion  regaled  him- 
self. 

In  an  hour  he  saw  the  squat  president  of  the 
South  Eastern  Railway  cross  the  mill-yard,  flanked 
closely  upon  either  side  by  the  two  younger  men, 
like  attendants  upon  royalty  who  stood  ready  to 
repulse  any  mere  mortal  who  might  have  the 
temerity  to  approach.  The  three  entered  the  fac- 
tory, where  they  remained  but  a  short  time. 
When  he  reappeared  Marr  went  directly  to  his 
private  car. 

The  engine  that  hauled  the  special  train  hissed 
portentously,  as  if  both  aware  of  the  honor  to 
which  it  had  been  elevated  and  impatient  to  pro- 
ceed triumphantly  upon  its  way.  And  all  this  time 
Dick  had  received  no  word  from  Farrand. 

Mr.  Bristow  slipped  out  of  the  office  then  and 


MR.  MARK  KEEPS  APPOINTMENT  23 

went  over  to  the  track  where  Marr's  train  stood. 
Pausing  for  a  moment  at  the  side  of  the  loco- 
motive, he  spoke  a  few  brief  and  pointed  words, 
in  English,  to  the  engineer — an  American,  by 
the  way,  whom  Dick's  democracy  had  previously 
gathered  unto  him  as  a  friend.  Behind  the  back 
of  his  native  fireman,  who  knew  no  language  but 
his  own,  the  engineer  winked  at  Dick  mysteriously. 
Whatever  Dick  had  said,  the  two  gringos  seemed 
to  understand  each  other  perfectly. 

Dick  went  on  and  pushed  past  the  Mexican  con- 
ductor, who  stood  upon  the  steps  of  the  car.  As 
his  spurs  jangled  down  the  aisle  Farrand  turned 
his  head  and  at  once  sprang  up. 

"It's  just  as  I  feared,"  he  said,  pausing  directly 
in  Dick's  path.  "Mr.  Marr  hasn't  time  to  discuss 
your  road  now.  He's  leaving  immediately." 

Dick  could  not  repress  a  grin  as  he  said 
easily — 

"Oh,  no,  he  isn't!  There's  trouble  in  the  en- 
gine. He  can't  start  for  several  minutes.  And 
what's  more,  I'm  going  to  talk  with  him  while 
he's  waiting  here."  Something  more  serious  than 
a  smile  came  into  his  face;  and  Farrand,  noting 
it,  stepped  aside. 

While  the  disturbed  manager  hurried  forward 


24     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

to  look  into  the  cause  of  the  delay,  Dick  quickly 
introduced  himself  to  the  elderly,  self-contained 
man,  who  regarded  him  more  with  tolerance  than 
with  interest.  Seated,  Julian  Marr  was  an  im- 
pressive figure.  His  enormous  bulk  made  him  ap- 
pear short  as  to  legs,  when  he  walked.  But  he 
had  a  magnificent  head  and  torso — his  was  the 
heroic  type,  which  shows  to  best  advantage  on 
horseback.  His  imposing  personality  did  not, 
however,  disconcert  Dick  in  the  least.  He  looked 
fairly  into  Marr's  penetrating  eyes,  which  bored 
into  his  own  from  above  massive,  clean-shaven 
jowls,  and  set  forth  his  case  clearly. 

Julian  Marr  did  not  interrupt  him.  He  nodded 
now  and  then,  as  he  followed  Dick's  argument. 
He  knew  the  men  whom  Dick  had  named  as  be- 
ing ready  to  furnish  capital  for  his  operations. 
They  were  Boston  bankers  of  repute  and  Marr 
had  not  the  slightest  objection  to  allowing  them 
to  contribute  to  the  profits  of  his  railroad. 

"We  will  build  the  road,"  he  said  shortly — 
he  was  a  man  of  quick  decisions.  "But  you  must 
stand  part  of  the  expense  of  its  construction. 
There's  not  enough  traffic  out  your  way  to  war- 
rant our  spending  all  that  money.  It  will  cost 


MR.  MARK  KEEPS  APPOINTMENT  25 

seven  thousand  dollars  a  mile  to  run  a  spur  to 
your  tract." 

"My  backers  stand  ready  to  subscribe  a  reason- 
able amount,"  Dick  assured  him. 

"Very  well!  Make  your  proposal  in  writing 
through  the  Company's  London  office,"  Marr 
said.  "I  will  write  them  about  the  matter  to- 
day. I  see  no  objection  to  it — provided  you  can 
assure  us  that  you  mean  business.  We  must  have 
a  bond  to  protect  us  against  any  failure  of  your 
project." 

"We  will  do  anything  in  reason,"  Dick  said. 
He  was  conscious  of  a  sudden  feeling  of  elation 
over  the  happy  turn  of  affairs.  "There  is  just  one 
thing  more  that  I  want  to  speak  about,"  he  went 
on,  "and  that  is  freight  rates.  Of  course  we  can't 
go  ahead  without  a  contract  covering  them." 

At  that  Marr's  composure  slipped  off  him  like 
a  cloak.  He  became,  on  the  instant,  pugnacious, 
bullying,  blustering. 

"Oh,  I  never  make  contracts!"  he  blurted,  with 
an  impatient  gesture  of  his  thick  arms.  "I  never 
make  contracts !" 

"All  we  ask  is  a  businesslike  deal "  Dick 

began.  "We  only  want " 

"No  contracts!"  snapped  Marr.    He  shook  his 


26     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

head  vigorously  upon  his  bull-neck.  "Young 
man,"  he  said  testily,  "if  you  don't  like  our  ways 
of  doing  business,  go  back  home.  Don't  come 
down  here  and  attempt  to  dictate  to  us."  And 
with  an  air  of  finality  he  turned  his  back  upon 
Dick  and  gazed  out  of  the  window,  while  he 
drummed  irritably  upon  the  arm  of  his  chair. 
"Why  the  devil  don't  we  pull  out?"  he  growled 
to  his  companion. 

Dick  managed  to  extract  some  slight  consola- 
tion, at  least,  from  the  situation.  He  knew  that 
the  president  of  the  South  Eastern  Railway  Com- 
pany was  a  prisoner  upon  his  own  siding,  until 
he  should  himself  give  the  signal  to  the  engineer 
to  start.  Dropping  off  the  steps,  he  strolled 
leisurely  forward,  where  Farrand  was  impatiently 
questioning  the  engineer,  who  busily  tapped  bear- 
ings with  a  hammer,  to  carry  out  the  ruse  Dick 
had  concocted. 

At  a  nod  from  Dick — imperceptible  to  any  but 
his  fellow-conspirator — the  lanky,  hatchet-faced 
Yankee  suddenly  decided  that  he  could  proceed, 
in  safety. 

Dick  did  not  wait  to  see  Mr.  Julian  Marr's 
special  train  depart.  The  afternoon  was  already 
a  third  gone  and  he  had  a  long  ride  before  him. 


CHAPTER  II 


YOUNG  as  he  was,  Dick  Bristow  had  already 
learned  that  adversity  waits  always  around  the 
next  corner,  to  waylay  the  least  suspecting.  He 
had  entered  college  a  rich  man's  son.  And  before 
his  four  years  of  mingled  sport  and  study  were 
completed  the  crash  had  come.  His  father — > 
astute  business  man  though  he  had  been — had  lost 
his  once  strong  grip  upon  his  affairs.  Illness  had 
weakened  him  before  any  but  the  financial  wolves 
had  discovered  the  change  that  had  been  wrought 
in  him.  He  had  died  a  disappointed  and  broken- 
hearted man,  leaving  his  son — and  only  heir — 
an  estate  that  was  remarkable  only  for  the  worth- 
lessness  of  its  securities. 

When  lawyers  and  creditors  had  departed  Dick 
found  himself  the  possessor  of  a  deed  to  some 
twenty  thousand  r.cres  of  land  in  Mexico.  That 
was  h'.s  sole  asset,  aside  from  the  resources  within 
him.  He  wondered,  at  first,  that  the  receding 

27 


28     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

tide  of  debt  had  left  that  much  behind.  But  he 
soon  ceased  to  marvel.  Investigation  brought 
forth  the  fact  that  the  property  to  which  he  had 
fallen  heir  lay  fathoms  deep  under  water. 

He  left  college  then,  and  went  to  work.  Be- 
cause his  father  had  owned  mining  interests  Dick 
had  undertaken  the  study  of  metallurgy,  during 
such  intervals  as  athletics  spared  him.  And  now 
he  was  glad  enough  to  capitalize  what  knowledge 
he  had  acquired.  In  the  laboratories  of  the  De 
Boer  Exploration  Company  he  had  gained  rapid 
promotion.  But  still  Dick  was  not  satisfied.  He 
was  possessed  of  an  inborn  independence  that  for- 
bade his  taking  orders  gracefully  from  any  man; 
and  he  chafed  under  the  conditions  of  his  bondage. 
He  longed  to  be  his  own  master. 

His  emancipation  came  through  the  most  un- 
expected agency.  The  United  States  Government 
proved  to  be  the  good  fairy  that  at  last  set  him 
free.  The  federal  authorities  suddenly  evinced  a 
lively  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  Mexican  De- 
velopment Company,  with  the  result  that  the 
furtive,  fox-like  officials  of  that  enterprising  cor- 
poration, scenting  trouble,  made  haste  to  rectify 
some  of  their  mistakes,  such  as  the  sale  of  portions 
of  the  sea-floor  for  perfectly  good  American  dol- 


THE  LANDS  OF  HAPPINESS        29 

lars.  They  shrank  from  the  prospect  of  an  en- 
forced sojourn  at  a  certain  well-known  retreat  at 
Atlanta. 

It  was  not  difficult  for  them  to  persuade  their 
dupes  to  exchange  deeds  for  areas  of  Father 
Neptune's  realm  for  others  that  conveyed  more 
accessible  property.  And  Dick  willingly  sur- 
rendered the  instrument  that  had  descended  to 
him,  receiving  in  its  stead  another  paper  that 
transferred  to  him  a  tract  of  land  that  one  might 
investigate  without  the  aid  of  diving  apparatus. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  a  mere  leap  in  the  dark 
so  far  as  Dick  was  concerned.  But  he  reflected 
that  the  situation  could  scarcely  be  any  worse.  In 
their  anxiety  to  deliver  tangible  real  estate  to  their 
investors  the  Mexican  Development  Company  had 
indeed  bought  land  blindly.  But  once  he  had  as- 
sured himself  that  his  new  holdings  might  actually 
be  located  upon  the  map  of  Mexico,  Dick  Bristow 
could  no  longer  resist  the  impulse  to  set  foot  upon 
his  property. 

His  desire  was  of  a  two-fold  nature.  In  justice 
to  his  father's  memory  he  wanted  to  prove — to 
himself  and  to  the  world — that  his  inheritance 
was,  after  all,  far  from  negligible,  that  there  was 
still  some  substantial  asset  remaining  out  of  the 


30     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

fortune  that  the  elder  Bristow  had  amassed 
through  years  of  hard  work  and  self-denial.  That 
was  one  phase  of  the  motives  that  stirred  him. 

The  other  was  concerned  with  the  lure  of  a 
far-off  land,  which  called  to  him  insistently  and 
bade  him  shake  off  the  conventions  of  city  life  and 
the  shackles  of  service  in  another  man's  pay. 

He  made  up  his  mind  quickly.  And  so  de- 
termined was  he  to  put  his  fortune  to  the  test 
that  not  one  of  the  inducements  that  the  De  Boer 
Exploration  Company  held  out  to  him  caused  him 
to  waver  in  his  decision. 

Las  Alegrias — the  lands  of  mirth  or  gaiety — 
for  so  Dick's  estate  had  been  named  by  some  old 
Spanish  grandee  who  doubtless  never  laid  eyes  on 
his  possessions,  proved  to  be  of  surprising  value. 
Its  only  drawback — and  that  was  certainly  a  seri- 
ous one — consisted  in  its  remoteness  from  any 
means  of  transportation.  At  the  same  time  its 
isolation  had  insured  its  escape  from  exploitation 
during  the  centuries  that  had  elapsed  since  a  long- 
dead  Spanish  sovereign  bestowed  the  tract  upon 
some  court  favorite.  Except  for  a  few  huts  scat- 
tered here  and  there  over  the  property,  where  na- 
tive squatters  lived  in  primitive  fashion,  the  place 
had  never  been  tenanted.  The  few  clearings  that 


THE  LANDS  OF  HAPPINESS       31 

Dick  discovered  upon  it  were  insignificant  in  so 
large  a  hacienda.  With  the  help  of  old  Jose 
Crispo,  who  owned  a  princely  estate  bordering 
upon  Dick's,  and  in  whose  thatched  shack  Dick 
had  been  made  welcome,  the  new  owner  estimated 
that  there  was  upwards  of  half  a  million  dollars' 
worth  of  hard  wood  standing  upon  Las  Alegrias. 
And  once  the  place  was  cleared  he  would  be  the 
owner  of  as  fine  agricultural  land  as  could  be 
found  on  this  planet.  Through  the  ages  the  rank 
tropic  growths  had  been  building  up  a  wealth  of 
dark  loam,  the  fertility  of  which  had  never  been 
sapped.  Indeed,  Jose  Crispo  assured  Dick  that 
there  was  no  fitter  soil  for  sugar-cane  in  the 
tierra  caliente — the  hot  land. 

As  soon  as  he  realized  the  latent  possibilities 
of  his  property,  with  characteristic  American  en- 
terprise Dick  set  to  work  to  devise  means  for  its 
development.  He  was  not  content,  like  Jose 
Crispo,  to  eke  out  a  scanty  existence  by  raising 
a  few  cattle  and  pigs,  and  growing  plantains. 

But  there  were  obstacles  to  be  overcome.  To 
be  sure,  logs  could  be  run  down  the  river  to  the 
East  Coast,  when  the  spring  rains  swelled  the 
stream — one  mahogany  log  lashed  between  two 
of  cedar,  to  support  the  heavy  red  sticks,  which 


32    -THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

will  not  float  alone.  But  Dick  lacked  the  sub- 
stantial capital  necessary  for  such  operations. 
And  there  would  be  no  sense  in  growing  sugar- 
cane with  no  mill  to  grind  it,  or  no  way  of  shipping 
the  cane  to  somebody  else's  mill.  A  railroad — 
that  was  what  the  place  needed.  Without  a  rail- 
road Las  Alegrias  might  almost  as  well  lie  beneath 
the  sapphire  waters  of  the  Spanish  Main. 

Old  Jose  Crispo  had  all  along  been  skeptical  as 
to  the  outcome  of  his  guest's  negotiations  with 
the  South  Eastern  Railway  Company.  No  man 
would  have  been  better  pleased  than  he  to  see 
the  railroad  tap  that  section  of  the  country.  For 
him  it  would  mean  riches.  He  could  sell  his  land 
for  a  fortune  and  take  his  family  to  Mexico  City, 
to  live  in  luxury  for  the  rest  of  his  days.  But 
Jose  knew  something  of  the  temper  of  the  South 
Eastern  Railway  Company.  He  had  yet  to  be 
convinced  that  Dick's  plan  would  materialize. 

"I  have  a  cousin  who  owns  a  finca — a  farm — a 
league  off  the  line,"  he  told  Dick.  "  'La  Jia,'  the 
place  calls  itself;  and  it  is  excellent  for  the  rais- 
ing of  cattle.  My  cousin  desires  to  grow  sugar- 
cane, and  sell  it  to  the  Company's  mill  at  Rio 
Chico,  which  is  not  too  far  to  haul  la  cana  in 
bull-carts. 


THE  LANDS  OF  HAPPINESS       33 

"Bueno!  The  Company  wished  to  dam  the 
river,  to  provide  water  for  its  mill — the  river 
that  crosses  the  land  of  my  cousin,  further  down 
the  stream.  Now,  the  old  deeds  forbade  the 
building  of  a  dam.  My  cousin,  as  you  will  recall, 
owns  many  cattle  and  it  is  necessary  that  they 
have  water.  It  seemed  quite  simple  to  my  cousin. 
'Buy  from  me  all  the  cane  that  I  will  raise,'  he 
said  to  the  agents  of  the  Company,  'and  I  will  give 
my  consent  to  the  building  of  the  dam.' 

"The  agents  agreed.  My  cousin  signed  the 
paper  that  they  brought  to  him.  But  alas!  they 
signed  no  paper  for  him.  Always  they  tell  him, 
'Next  year!  We  cannot  grind  your  cane  now. 
The  Company  has  too  much  of  its  own.' 

"Caramba!  What  was  he  to  do?  Like  you, 
he  sought  an  interview  with  Sefior  Marr.  And 
when  he  met  el  Ingles,  on  the  steps  of  his  private 
car,  not  a  word  could  he  say. 

"Senor  Marr  shook  the  hand  of  my  cousin.  'I 
have  much  pleasure  in  knowing  you,'  the  great  man 
told  him.  'I  have  heard  much  about  you.  I  hope 
you  are  well.  Good-day!'  .  .  .  That  was  all. 
El  presidente  went  inside  his  car.  Some  one  closed 
the  door.  And  my  cousin  waited  by  the  side  of 
the  line.  Soon  the  train  started;  and  to  this  day 


34     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

he  has  never  been  able  to  sell  a  peso's  worth  of 
cane  to  the  Company. 

"Now  you  go  to  see  that  crooked  face  your- 
self," old  Jose  said  to  Dick.  "Do  you  wonder  that 
I  tell  you  it  is  useless?" 

But  Dick  was  not  to  be  dissuaded  by  Don  Jose's 
story.  The  tale  did  not  dishearten  him  in  the 
least.  He  had  bade  his  doubting  host  a  cheery 
a  Dios  and  hurried  away,  to  cover  as  much 
as  he  could  of  his  long  ride  while  the  day  was 
still  cool. 

Back  at  Jose  Crispo's  shack,  as  they  sat  that 
night  on  quaint  chairs  of  a  sixteenth  century  pat- 
tern, covered  with  cow-skins  with  the  hair  still 
on,  Dick  recounted  the  day's  experiences. 

"Ahl  my  friend — it  is  as  I  expected,"  the  old 
man  said.  "It  is  useless  to  hope  for  anything  else. 
The  Company  is  a  robber.  It  comes  here  and 
makes  a  fortune  out  of  our  fatherland,  while  we 
who  have  always  lived  here  look  on,  helpless.  A 
few  of  us — it  is  true — receive  money  from  the 
Company.  But  that  is  only  because  it  needs  our 
labor.  We  Mexicans  are  its  beasts  of  burden — 
nothing  more."  Don  Jose  stamped  upon  the  dirt 
floor  in  a  sudden  spasm  of  indignation.  But  he 


THE  LANDS  OF  HAPPINESS        35 

soon  grew  philosophical  again.  "I  shall  spend 
the  rest  of  my  days  in  this  place,"  he  said.  "After 
all,  it  is  a  good  life.  .  .  ." 

"A  good  life — yes!"  Dick  agreed.  After  his 
grueling  day's  work  he  had  fortified  himself  with 
an  excellent  meal  of  rice  with  chicken  and  he  was 
now  smoking  a  fat  cigar  that  he  had  bought  at  Rio 
Chico.  In  the  circumstances  he  was  young  enough 
to  feel  optimistic.  "But  I  haven't  given  up  hope 
of  my  railroad  yet,  Don  Jose.  As  they  say  in  los 
Estados  Unidos,  there  is  more  than  one  way  to 
remove  the  skin  from  a  cat.  If  I  can't  trade  with 
the  Company  I  must  find  some  other  means  out 
of  the  difficulty.  ...  I  see  nothing  to  do  but  build 
a  railroad  of  my  own." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head. 
•  "Impossible!"  he  said. 

"Why?"  Dick  asked  him. 

"Senor  Marr  would  never  permit  it,"  he  de- 
clared. 

"Nonsense !"  Dick  exclaimed.  "What  would  he 
have  to  say  about  it?" 

"Much!"  was  the  laconic  answer.  "He  would 
fight  you  like  three  thousand  demons." 

Dick  laughed. 

"Then  there's  going  to  be  some  scrap  around 


36     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

these  parts,  Don  Jose.  Nobody  ever  told  me  that 
the  Monroe  Doctrine  recognizes  any  right  of  a 
bunch  of  blooming  Britishers  to  plunder  this  coun- 
try. If  old  Marr  thinks  so  he's  mightily  mistaken. 
I'm  going  to  prove  to  him  that  he's  dead  wrong. 
I'm  going  to  add  to  his  education."  , 

But  Jose  Crispo  absorbed  none  of  his  guest's 
enthusiasm.  He  had  lived  all  his  life  under  the 
yoke  of  Mexican  misrule.  Perhaps  he  had  come 
to  regard  oppression  as  normal  to  existence. 
There  was  simply  a  change  of  tyrants — that  was 
all. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   DISCOVERY 

THERE  were  certain  obstacles  in  the  way  of  Dick's 
rash  resolve  to  construct  a  railroad  independently 
of  Julian  Marr.  Though  the  eastern  boundary  of 
Las  Alegrias  was  scarcely  more  than  six-  miles 
from  salt  water,  there  was  no  available  port  within 
so  easy  a  distance.  A  shallow  sound  stretched 
for  leagues  along  the  East  Coast,  across  which 
it  would  be  necessary  to  lighter  cargoes  to  ves- 
sels waiting  in  deep  water  beyond  a  barrier  of 
keys.  Such  a  handicap  made  shipping  by  that 
route  anything  but  feasible.  Dick's  only  hope 
— now  that  the  South  Eastern  Railway  no  longer 
figured  in  his  calculations — lay  in  reaching  a  good 
harbor.  And  he  knew  that  there  was  none  nearer 
than  fifty  miles. 

He  was  aware,  moreover,  that  the  construction 
of  an  independent  railroad  of  that  length,  together 
with  the  equipment  required  to  operate  it,  would 

37 


38      THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

necessitate  an  outlay  much  greater  than  would 
be  justified  by  the  volume  of  business  involved. 

He  was  not  so  foolish  as  to  suggest  such  an 
absurdity  to  his  Northern  friends.  After  his  in- 
terview with  Marr,  Dick  spent  days  in  riding 
over  his  property.  He  cudgeled  his  brains  to  de- 
vise some  solution  of  his  problem.  The  sight  of 
all  that  timber,  ripe  for  the  woodsman's  ax,  and 
the  knowledge  that  beneath  it  lay  soil  that  only 
waited  the  opportunity  to  turn  back  to  the  world 
the  energy  stored  up  in  it — those  things  exas- 
perated him.  But  he  could  not  stay  away  from 
Las  Alegrias.  To  sit  idly  in  Jose  Crispo's  house 
and  merely  think,  when  all  his  faculties  craved  ac- 
tion, was  unbearable. 

Now  it  happened  that  a  corner  of  Dick's  land 
— comprising  about  a  quarter  of  its  total  area — 
consisted  of  a  mountainous  region.  This  not  only 
extended  for  a  considerable  distance  into  Jose 
Crispo's  property,  but  also  encroached  upon  the 
estate  that  flanked  them  both  upon  the  west. 

"It  is  useless — the  mountain !"  Crispo  had  often 
told  Dick.  And  other  natives  had  said  the  same. 
Soil  that  would  produce  nothing  more  than  light 
grass  and  a  sparse  scattering  of  stunted  trees  was 
manifestly  well-nigh  sterile.  "Look  up!"  Crispo 


THE  DISCOVERY  39 

had  said.  "If  you  wish  to  know  whether  the  land 
be  fat,  look  up — not  down !  And  if  you  see  great 
trees  growing  thick  about  you,  by  that  sign  you 
may  know  that  the  earth  contains  strength  to 
grow  the  cane.  But  the  mountain — puff  It  is  the 
playground  of  the  devil — fit  for  nothing,  unless 
there  be  enough  forage  upon  it  for  cattle.  .  .  . 
No  one  ever  puts  a  plow  to  it." 

Taking  his  cue  from  old  Crispo,  Dick  paid 
scant  attention  to  his  uplands.  He  had  looked 
upon  them  as  being  a  necessary  evil.  But  at  last 
an  impulse  seized  him  one  day  to  see  what  man- 
ner of  soil  underlay  the  surface  of  that  unfruit- 
ful eminence.  Making  a  trip  to  Rio  Chico  with 
a  led-horse,  he  returned  in  due  course  with  the 
animal  laden  with  picks,  shovels,  and — dynamite. 
And  then,  with  the  assistance  of  two  country- 
men whom  he  hired,  he  set  about  his  investiga- 
tion. 

In  a  short  time  they  had  blasted  a  dozen  big 
holes.  In  his  enthusiasm  Dick  seized  a  shovel 
himself  and  proceeded  to  make  the  yawning  pits 
deeper.  He  had  dug  only  a  few  minutes  before 
he  completely  forgot  the  fact  that  he  was  swelter- 
ing under  the  tropical  sun.  The  sweat  trickled 
into  his  eyes  and  made  them  smart;  but  he  was 


40      THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

scarcely  aware  of  the  discomfort.  He  was  too 
intent  upon  the  clay  and  gravel  that  he  had  un- 
covered. The  stuff  varied  from  yellow  and  brown 
to  a  darker  shade  that  was  almost  black.  . 

Not  until  he  had  torn  half  a  hundred  holes 
in  the  surface  of  the  hills  did  he  cease  his  gopher- 
like  operations.  Then  he  filled  a  bag  with  that 
interesting  dirt  and  rode  back  to  show  old  Jose 
what  he  had  found. 

"Look  here!"  Dick  said.  He  had  dumped  his 
treasure  upon  the  floor.  "What  do  you  think 
this  is,  Don  Jose?" 

Jose  Crispo  looked  carelessly  at  the  dirt.  He 
did  not  deign  even  to  touch  it. 

"It  is  gold?"  he  said  with  a  smile;  and  there 
was  a  sly  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

Dick  was  too  serious  to  realize  that  his  host 
was  having  a  small  joke  at  his  expense. 

"No— not  gold!"  he  exclaimed.  "But  I'll  tell 
you  what  I  think  it  is.  I  think  it's  iron.  It  never 
occurred  to  you — did  it — that  there  might  be  any- 
thing like  that  on  your  despised  mountain  ?  About 
all  the  mining  one  would  have  to  do  would  be  to 
scoop  the  stuff  up  with  steam-shovels  and  drag- 


41 

line  machines.  Such  operations  are  more  like 
railroad  grading  than  anything  else. 

"Here's  where  I  leave  you  for  a  few  days, 
Senor  Millionaire.  I'm  going  to  take  a  sample  of 
this  pretty  dirt  over  to  the  San  Cristobal  mine 
and  see  if  they  won't  let  me  analyze  it  in  their 
laboratory.  Then  we'll  know  exactly  what's 
what." 

"This  is  very  poor  soil,"  said  Don  Jose  dis- 
paragingly. "It  contains  no  food  for  the  cane — 
none  at  all!" 

"Naturally!"  Dick  agreed  cheerfully.  "You 
wouldn't  expect  to  raise  crops  in  an  iron  mine, 
would  you?" 

The  old  man  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
He  was  far  from  convinced.  He  had  lived  all 
his  life  in  that  place  and  he  had  always  regarded 
those  uplands  as  an  eyesore — an  excrescence  upon 
the  fruitful  plain.  It  was  no  wonder,  then,  that 
Dick's  tentative  theory  lay  so  far  inside  the  pale 
of  fancy  that  he  could  not  credit  it  with  even 
the  slightest  element  of  probability.  He  shook 
his  head;  and  he  looked  at  Dick  somewhat  curi- 
ously. He  was  aware  that  men's  minds  some- 
times give  way  under  disappointment.  He  had 


42     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

himself  known  of  a  Chinese  coolie  in  a  neighbor- 
ing hamlet  who  collected  pods  from  the  alga-oba 
trees,  imagining  that  they  were  money.  That 
was  after  he  had  risked  all  his  savings  in  the 
lottery — and  lost.  Don  Jose  wondered  whether 
his  guest  had  not  taken  Marr's  decree  too  much 
to  heart. 

He  was  not  less  mystified  when  Dick  set  out 
the  very  next  day  for  Rio  Chico— and  the  rail- 
road. Natives  of  the  land  of  manana  do  not 
readily  understand.such  sudden  moves;  and  the  old 
man  was  inclined  to  consider  his  guest  a  bit  loco 
— along  with  all  other  gringos,  whereas  he  had 
previously  believed  him  to  be  an  exception  to  the 
rule.  And  to  fill  his  saddle-bags  with  earth  from 
that  miserable  mountain!  That,  surely,  was  the 
act  of  a  madman  1 

Five  days  later  there  were  two  crazy  gringos 
housed  in  Jose  Crispo's  palm-thatched  hut,  for 
Dick  had  brought  an  engineer  back  with  him  from 
the  San  Cristobal  mine.  Before  sending  his  re- 
port north  he  wanted  to  be  positive  that  he  was 
not  mistaken.  He  intended  to  back  up  his  letter 
with  the  opinion  of  a  creditable  mining  engineer. 


THE  DISCOVERY  43 

In  his  own  mind,  however,  there  remained  virtu- 
ally no  doubt  as  to  the  extent  of  the  deposit,  or 
its  richness.  The  samples  that  he  had  assayed 
at  the  mine  showed  over  forty-seven  per  cent,  of 
iron.  And  so  far  as  Dick's  investigation  had  gone, 
he  judged  the  deposit  to  cover  some  twenty-five 
to  thirty  square  miles,  extending  over  his  own 
and  Crispo's  properties,  as  well  as  that  other 
that  lay  to  the  south  of  theirs. 

When  Russel,  the  mining  expert,  substantially 
verified  Dick's  estimate  of  the  situation,  adding 
to  it  his  opinion  that  the  ore  reached  an  average 
depth  approximating  seventeen  feet,  old  Jose  be- 
came almost  loco  himself.  Skeptical  as  he  had 
been,  nevertheless  he  had  hovered  about  while 
they  made  their  examination  of  the  uplands.  And 
in  the  end  he  was  convinced. 

"I  will  sell  my  land  to  your  company,"  he  told 
Dick.  "Pay  me  a  fair  price — that  is  all  I  ask." 
And  he  immediately  resolved  to  ride  to  Rio  Chico 
"manana"  and  buy  a  new,  soft-padded  saddle 
on  the  strength  of  his  prospects. 

Under  the  circumstances  Dick  thought  it  the 
part  of  wisdom  to  swear  the  old  fellow  to  secrecy. 

Jose  assured  him  that  even  the  point  of  a  knife 


44     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

at  his  throat  would  not  make  him  disclose  their 
secret.  "Yes — yes!"  he  promised.  "Naturally  I 
will  say  nothing.  I  will  tell  no  one — no  one." 

"What  about  that  tract  next  us?"  Dick  asked 
him.  "Who  owns  it?  It's  become  valuable,  you 
know."  Hitherto  he  had  paid  scant  attention  to 
that  neighboring  section.  Don  Jose  had  told  him 
when  he  first  rode  over  his  own  property  that  it 
contained  much  savannah — unfertile,  sparsely 
wooded  plain. 

Jose  Crispo  looked  a  bit  crestfallen.  The 
question  apparently  troubled  him. 

"That,"  he  said  apologetically,  "that  is  the  land 
of  Senor  Marr  and  another  gentleman  who  lived 
in  Nueva  York.  He  has  died,  it  is  now  two  or 
three  years  since — that  other — I  have  been  told." 

"Thunder!"  exclaimed  Dick,  turning  to  Russel, 
whom  he  had  come  to  know  well.  "That  com- 
plicates things,  doesn't  it?"  He  was  not  at  all 
pleased  at  the  news.  "I  don't  want  any  Marr 
mixed  up  in  this  deal,"  he  commented. 

Pressed  for  details,  Don  Jose  related  how  a 
smooth-tongued  Yankee  had  inveigled  Marr  into 
buying  the  place — it  had  been  an  old  cattle-ranch, 
known  as  "Aguacate." 

"That  was  before  Senor  Marr  knew  much  of 


THE  DISCOVERY  45 

Mexico,"  Crispo  explained.  "The  Yankee  told 
him  it  was  an  excellent  property.  And  for  once 
he  made  a  bad  bargain.  There  is  too  much  savan- 
nah on  the  finca — and  of  cane  land,  almost  none. 

''But  Serior  Marr,  as  you  may  guess,  is  no  man 
to  keep  a  bad  bargain  to  himself.  He  invited  a 
party  of  rich  Americans  to  visit  Mexico  with  him. 
And  before  they  left,  one  of  them  had  become  a 
half-owner  of  Aguacate.  The  gentleman  never 
saw  the  property.  But  it  was,  naturally,  an  op- 
portunity such  as  comes  to  one  but  once  in  a  life- 
time— to  enter  into  a  partnership  with  a  great  man 
like  Senor  Marr."  Jose  Crispo  laughed  grimly. 
"I  have  often  wished  that  I  could  find  a  rich 
Yanqui  to  buy  half  of  my  finca,"  he  said. 

"You're  lucky  you  never  got  your  wish,"  Dick 
told  him.  "I'm  going  to  put  this  proposition  up 
to  the  De  Boer  people — I  used  to  work  for  them. 
It's  the  sort  of  thing  they're  always  on  the  look- 
out for.  And  I  know  they'll  want  the  whole  mine, 
if  they  want  any  of  it.  ...  They  can  have  my 
holdings;  and  I'll  take  shares  in  their  company." 

"I  want  no  shares,"  Jose  Crispo  said.  "Gold 
is  better  for  me.  I  wish  to  have  no  worries.  If 
they  will  buy  my  land  I  shall  go  to  Mexico  City 
to  live." 


46     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

Three  weeks  of  feverish  uncertainty  served  to 
set  even  Dick's  usually  steady  nerves  on  edge.  For 
several  days  he  had  waited  at  Rio  Chico,  where 
he  haunted  the  postoffice  after  the  arrival  of  each 
train. 

And  at  last  the  letter  came. 

"Get  an  option  on  Marr's  property,  as  well  as 
on  your  Mexican  friend's" — it  was  Thomas  De 
Boer  himself  who  had  dictated  the  answer  to 
Dick's  proposal.  "We  are  placing  funds  to  your 
order  in  the  Territorial  Bank  in  Mexico  City.  .  .  . 
Once  you  have  things  sewed  up,  let  us  know  and 
we  will  get  busy  at  this  end.  .  .  ." 

After  all,  it  was  no  wonder  that  the  letter  caused 
Dick  no  small  amount  of  gratification.  The  knowl- 
edge that  his  old  employer  placed  such  implicit 
confidence  in  him  went  far  to  erase  from  Dick's 
memory  the  discontent  of  those  restless  years  he 
had  spent  in  the  service  of  the  De  Boer  Explora- 
tion Company. 

"An  option  on  Marr's  property!"  Dick  laughed 
aloud  as  he  re-read  his  letter.  That  ought  to  be 
easy,  he  thought,  since  the  old  boy  has  always 
considered  himself  stung. 

That  night  Mr.  Richard  Bristow  boarded  the 
train  for  San  Miguel,  the  capital  of  the  State, 


THE  DISCOVERY  4? 

where  Julian  Marr's  land  commissioner  lived. 
His  business  with  the  polite  Castilian  lawyer 
caused  that  worthy  gentleman  some  difficulty  in 
restraining  a  smile,  when  Dick  explained  his  er- 
rand. 

So  the  senor  desired  to  add  to  his  estate? 
Estd  bien!  Aguacate  was  an  excellent  farm. 
Senor  Cisneros  (that  was  the  land  commissioner's 
name)  was  not  at  all  sure  that  Senor  Marr  would 
wish  to  sell.  However,  one  could  never  foretell 
those  things.  He  would  write  el  presidente  about 
the  matter.  And  having  stipulated  what  he  con- 
sidered an  exorbitant  price  for  the  property,  Senor 
Cisneros  bowed  Dick  out  of  his  office  with  much 
ceremony. 

More  waiting  followed  for  Dick.  But  in  the 
course  of  time  he  found  himself  in  possession  of 
a  formidable  looking  document  which  bore  the 
signatures  of  Julian  Marr  and  one  Janet  Ashley. 
The  contract  provided  that  in  consideration  of  one 
thousand  dollars,  American  money,  duly  paid  in 
hand,  "the  said  Richard  Bristow"  was  granted, 
for  one  year,  the  option  of  purchasing  the  tract 
known  as  Aguacate  for  the  further  sum  of  sixty- 
nine  thousand  dollars. 

Dick  looked  curiously  at  the  angular  feminine 


48      THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

signature  beneath  Marr's  uncompromising  auto- 
graph. He  imagined  Janet  Ashley  to  be  the 
widow  of  Jose  Crispo's  "gentleman  from  Nueva 
York,"  whom  Marr's  friendship  had  cost  the  tidy 
little  sum  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars — accord- 
ing to  creditable  rumor.  Well !  the  widow  was  to 
reap  a  profit  on  the  transaction  at  last — though 
such  an  outcome  had  been  far  from  Marr's 
thoughts  when  he  unloaded  half  of  his  supposedly 
worthless  tract  upon  an  unsuspecting  guest. 

That  day  Dick  sent  a  cable  message  to  the  De 
Boer  Exploration  Company.  He  was  discreet 
enough  to  phrase  it  in  cipher,  since  all  telegrams 
necessarily  passed  through  the  hands  of  Marr's 
railroad  despatchers.  Translated,  the  message 
conveyed  this  news: 

"Have  year's  option  on  both  properties. 
Awaiting  further  instructions." 

The  reply  that  his  cablegram  elicited  caused  Mr. 
Bristow  unlimited  satisfaction: 

"Party  for  preliminary  survey  leaves  the 
twentieth.  Meet  me  Vera  Cruz,  Hotel  Sevilla, 
Saturday  week. 

"T.  De  Boer." 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  GAME  OF  CARDS 

AMONG  the  various  invitations  that  the  morning's 
mail  brought  to  her,  there  was  one,  bearing  an 
English  postmark,  that  held  forth  to  Janet  Ashley 
the  unusual  charm  of  novelty.  She  had  been 
obliged,  of  late,  to  confess  to  herself  that  now  that 
she  was  three  seasons  past  the  debutante  age  there 
had  come  to  be  an  inevitable  sameness  about  all 
society  functions.  The  cut  and  dried  regularity  of 
dinners  and  dances  had  long  since  palled  upon  her. 
She  longed  for  the  time  when  some  one  should 
say  something  original,  or  daring — or  at  least  not 
absolutely  correct. 

The  afternoon  before,  a  traffic  policeman  brow- 
beating a  truculent  cabby  had  given  her  a  glimpse 
of  the  primitive  that  made  her  wish  more  than 
ever  to  escape  to  some  place  where  the  conven- 
tionalities had  not  throttled  the  more  sturdy  at- 
tributes that  she  missed  in  the  men  she  knew.  They 

49 


50     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

were  gentlemen — it  is  true — but  were  they  virile  ? 
Perhaps  Janet's  answer  to  the  question  might  be 
sufficiently  deduced  from  her  persistence  in  re- 
maining a  maiden. 

There  was  an  appeal  in  the  letter  she  was  read- 
ing that  made  her  decide  instantly  to  accept  the 
invitation  it  contained: 

"WINCHESTER,  HANTS. 
"Dear  Janet: 

"It  is  an  age  since  I  have  seen  you.  But 
at  last  I  am  coming  to  your  delightful 
America  again.  Father  has  consented  (after 
much  urging)  to  take  me  to  New  York  with 
him.  We  are  going  thence  to  Mexico,  and 
he  has  told  me  that  I  may  invite  any  guests 
I  please  to  have  a  holiday  with  us.  Of 
course  I've  never  thought  of  any  one  but  you. 
You  and  your  aunt  must  join  us.  We  shall 
leave  New  York  late  next  month  and  I  am 
counting  on  having  you  with  me. 

"As  ever,  cordially  yours, 

"SYLVIA  MARK." 

It  was  two  years  since  Janet  and  Julian  Marr's 
attractive  daughter  had  spent  a  month  together 


A  GAME  OF  CARDS  51 

on  the  Riviera.  Mr.  Ashley,  through  his  banking 
operations,  had  become  well  acquainted  with  the 
famous  Englishman;  and  when  the  two  girls 
chanced  to  meet  they  had  at  once  struck  up  a  close 
friendship. 

Not  only  did  Janet  look  forward  to  seeing 
Sylvia  Marr  again.  To  one  in  her  frame  of  mind 
the  thought  of  a  trip  to  Mexico  was  alluring,  to 
say  the  least.  Sylvia  had  told  her  something  of 
the  wildness  of  that  country,  for  the  English  girl 
had  seen  many  things  there  that  escape  the  casual 
tourist.  Janet  knew  that  Mexico  boasted  its 
bandits  and  its  revolutions;  she  remembered  that 
men  went  armed  there — outside  the  cities — and 
that  it  was,  in  effect,  a  pioneer's  country.  She 
was  sure  that  she  wanted  to  go  there. 

It  was  not  difficult  for  Janet  to  persuade  her 
aunt  to  her  way  of  thinking.  Miss  Anne  Browning 
was  ever  an  indulgent  relation.  There  was  noth- 
ing she  would  not  do  for  her  niece,  bereft  as  she 
was  of  both  parents. 

"I'll  be  glad  to  go  with  you,  my  dear,"  the  good 
lady  said.  "Your  poor  father  once  went  to  Mexico 
with  Mr.  Marr,  you  remember." 

"Yes,  Aunt !"  Janet  replied.  "And  they  bought 
some  land  together.  Mr.  Marr  and  I  own  it 


52     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

jointly  now — so  Mr.  Miles  tells  me.  He  brought 
me  some  sort  of  paper  regarding  it — which  I  had 
to  sign — not  long  ago.  .  .  ." 

When  the  doughty  president  of  the  South  East- 
ern Railway  Company  reached  New  York  he 
suddenly  changed  his  plans.  His  daughter — to- 
gether with  Janet  Ashley  and  her  aunt — he  packed 
unceremoniously  aboard  a  steamer,  under  the  care 
of  his  valet.  As  for  himself,  he  expected  to  go 
to  Washington.  He  had  heard  an  interesting 
rumor  to  the  effect  that  a  project  for  a  new  rail- 
road was  under  way — a  railroad  intended  to  en- 
croach upon  what  he  had  come  to  consider  much 
in  the  nature  of  his  own  private  preserves. 

Now,  Julian  Marr  had  certain  plans  stored 
away  in  the  back  of  his  head  concerning  the  ul- 
timate expansion  of  the  South  Eastern  Railway, 
and  he  was  of  no  mind  to  look  on  idly  while 
some  one  else  filched  good  concessions  from  under 
his  very  nose.  There  was,  as  he  well  knew,  more 
than  one  way  to  spike  a  gun  of  that  sort.  The 
thing  could  be  accomplished,  often,  by  enlisting — 
for  a  consideration — the  services  of  certain  Mexi- 
can legislators.  There  was,  at  the  same  time,  the 
cheaper  (and  possibly  surer)  method  of  protest- 


A  GAME  OF  CARDS  53 

ing  to  the  government  at  Washington,  which,  in 
its  exercise  of  an  assumed  friendship  for  its  turbu- 
lent neighbor  to  the  southward,  had  on  occasion 
caused  Julian  Marr's  way  to  be  made  smooth  for 
him.  It  had  been  a  shrewd  business  stroke  of 
Marr's  to  persuade  various  Wall  Street  gentlemen 
to  invest  in  his  Mexican  securities.  Their  inter- 
ests— as  he  always  pointed  out  to  the  Washington 
authorities — must  be  jealously  safeguarded. 

"I'll  join  you  before  a  great  while,"  he  told  the 
ladies.  "Meantime  do  anything  you  like ;  go  any- 
where you  please — where  it's  safe.  I  cabled  Far- 
rand  to-day — he's  my  manager  at  Rio  Chico — to 
meet  you  when  you  land.  Make  him  show  you 
about.  The  beggar's  getting  fat.  He  needs 
work." 

"Work !"  Sylvia  Marr  exclaimed  with  mock  dis- 
pleasure. "Will  you  never  learn  to  be  compli- 
mentary, Father?  Most  men  would  consider  it 
a  pleasure,  I'm  sure,  to  take  charge  of  our  party 
— especially  with  Janet  a  member  of  it." 

"Oh !  You'll  both  do,  I  dare  say,"  he  admitted, 
as  he  kissed  his  daughter  good-by.  Secretly  he 
was  immensely  proud  of  her,  as  he  had  good  rea- 
son to  be.  Perhaps  he  even  wondered,  some- 
times, as  did  so  many  others,  how  the  fair,  tall 


54     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

girl,  with  the  hands  and  feet  of  a  patrician  and 
the  thin,  high-bridged  Norman  nose,  could  have 
sprung  from  so  burly  a  sire  as  he. 

Marr  did  not  tarry  until  sailing-time.  He  was 
not  of  the  type  that  waits  gracefully  for  anything. 
Before  an  hour  had  passed,  when  the  ship  swung 
slowly  out  of  her  berth,  he  was  already  on  his 
way  to  Washington. 

Wade  Farrand  was  not  at  all  averse  to  playing 
courier  to  a  party  that  numbered  two  pretty  girls 
among  its  members.  The  lack  of  feminine  so- 
ciety was  one  of  the  drawbacks  of  a  life  such  as 
he  led.  To  be  sure,  in  his  own  discreet  way  he 
found  compensations  for  the  absence  of  womanly 
companionship.  At  Rio  Chico  there  was  a  certain 
dark  eyed  muchacha — Rosita  by  name — but  Far- 
rand's  position,  as  manager,  made  such  diversions 
a  bit  difficult.  An  official  of  his  authority  had  to 
make  a  pretense  of  preserving  the  conventions. 

Farrand  had  previously  become  acquainted  with 
Sylvia  Marr,  during  former  visits  of  hers  to 
Mexico.  He  had  found  her  both  attractive  and  in- 
telligent. But  he  was  not  insensible  of  the  social 
gap  that  separated  them.  Julian  Marr's  daughter 
would  some  day  marry  a  title,  and  a  desirable  one, 


A  GAME  OF  CARDS  55 

too — no  shoddy,  broken-down  fortune-hunter  such 
as  seek  American  brides  with  rich  papas.  It  hap- 
pened as  a  matter  of  course  that  Wade  Farrand's 
attitude  toward  her  always  remained  both  defer- 
ential and  wary.  He  never  forgot  that  her  father 
had  made  him  what  he  was;  nor  that  it  lay  in 
Marr's  power  to  set  him  down  again  among  the 
common  herd  of  clerks  whence  the  great  man  had 
rescued  him. 

But  Farrand  was  able  to  meet  Miss  Marr's 
friend  upon  an  entirely  different  footing.  As  a 
New  York  girl,  Janet  Ashley  need  not  necessarily 
regard  him  as  an  inferior.  Indeed,  she  knew 
plenty  of  men  who  had  risen  from  no  loftier  be- 
ginnings than  Farrand's. 

It  was  natural,  then,  that  Farrand's  manner 
toward  the  two  girls  should  be  nicely  adjusted  to 
suit  different  requirements.  He  was  quite  ready 
to  embark  upon  a  flirtation  with  Miss  Janet 
Ashley,  and  to  continue  the  pleasant  voyage  just 
as  far  as  that  young  lady  should  permit.  But  only 
a  flirtation.  Farrand  was  deep  enough  in  Julian 
Marr's  confidence  to  know  that  the  Ashley  fortune 
was  of  decidedly  modest  proportions — that  Janet's 
father  had  made  none  too  wise  investments  with 
the  inheritance  which  his  great-grandfather  had 


5  6     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

founded  by  the  judicious  purchase  of  Manhattan 
real  estate.  And  Wade  Farrand  was  a  practical 
man.  Regarding  marriage  as  a  burdensome  tie 
that  no  man  can  decently  escape  forever,  he  was 
resolved — when  the  fatal  bells  rang  for  him — that 
his  bride  should  bring  him  a  compensation  worth 
while.  What  he  knew  concerning  the  deceased 
Ashley's  venture  in  Mexican  lands  was  enough 
to  make  him  sufficiently  cautious  in  playing  with 
his  daughter.  But  that  was  no  reason  why  Far- 
rand  should  not  amuse  himself. 

Dick  Bristow  was  on  his  way  back  to  Rio  Chico. 
A  slap  on  the  shoulder  roused  him  from  the 
book  he  was  reading — a  handbook  on  iron  ores 
which  Mr.  De  Boer  had  given  him  the  previous 
day  in  Vera  Cruz. 

"Hello,  old  man!"  somebody  said. 

Dick  was  not  overpleased  when  he  looked  up 
and  saw  Wade  Farrand  leaning  over  the  back  of 
his  seat. 

"I'm  looking  for  some  one  to  make  up  a  table 
at  bridge,"  Farrand  told  him.  "You're  just  the 
man.  I  know  you  play."  It  was  not  everybody 
whom  he  could  introduce  to  Julian  Marr's 
daughter.  In  fact,  as  he  walked  through  the  train 


A  GAME  OF  CARDS  57 

he  had  already  passed  over  several  of  his  ac- 
quaintances as  unsuited  to  his  present  require- 
ments. But  Bristow  was  in  every  way  eligible. 
Farrand  knew  he  was  a  gentleman. 

When  Farrand  explained  the  situation  Dick 
could  not  decently  refuse  him,  though  he  had  no 
desire  to  meet  another  member  of  the  Marr  fam- 
ily. One  experience  had  been  enough  for  him. 
However,  he  faced  his  martyrdom  cheerfully. 

His  courtesy  was  not  without  its  reward.  If 
he  was  agreeably  surprised  in  Julian  Marr's 
daughter,  whom  he  had  pictured  to  himself  as  a 
dumpy  spinster  of  uncertain  age,  he  found  in  her 
companion,  Miss  Ashley,  a  girl  after  his  own 
heart.  For  one  thing,  she  was  an  American;  and 
he  was  loyal  enough  to  his  native  land  to  think 
its  women  the  finest  in  the  world.  Moreover, 
Janet  was  uncommonly  attractive.  The  black  of 
her  trim  suit  served  to  give  added  accent  to  the 
suggestion  of  red  in  her  hair,  holding  aloof  from 
it  as  if  that  mass  of  color  belonged  to  a  gay  world 
of  its  own  into  which  it  was  forbidden  that  any- 
thing else  except  glints  of  sunshine  should  enter. 
To  Dick,  long  accustomed  to  Mexican  swarthiness, 
her  skin  seemed  unbelievably  white,  save  for  the 
rose  of  her  cheeks.  It  is  true,  her  slightly  up- 


5  8     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

turned  nose  might  have  caused  the  captious  to  con- 
sider that  her  features  fell  short  of  the  promise  of 
her  coloring.  But  Dick  was  at  once  of  the  opinion 
that  she  would  most  decidedly  "do."  And  the 
more  he  looked  into  her  dancing  clue  eyes  the 
surer  he  was  that  her  like  was  not  to  be  found,  ex- 
cept by  accident,  outside  her  natural  habitat — the 
States.  It  did  him  a  world  of  good  to  meet  a 
lively  American  girl  again. 

The  noble  pastime  of  bridge  progressed  fa- 
mously. And  after  they  had  played  enough  rub- 
bers to  satisfy  even  the  two  feminine  devotees  of 
the  game  Dick  still  lingered  there.  He  forgot 
his  dislike  of  Farrand  in  his  enjoyment  of  that 
taste  of  civilization. 

"This  has  been  a  real  treat  for  me,"  he  said, 
when  he  felt  that  he  could  not  decently  remain  with 
the  party  any  longer. 

They  protested  against  his  going. 

"We  shall  hope  to  see  you  again,"  Sylvia  Marr 
told  him  cordially. 

"Oh,  yes!"  Janet  echoed.  "You  and  I  really 
ought  to  know  each  other  better,  Mr.  Bristow. 
You're  not  the  only  one  present  who  owns  a  Mex- 
ican plantation.  I  have  one — or  part  of  one — 
myself."  Janet's  notion  of  her  property  was  de- 


A  GAME  OF  CARDS  59 

cidedly  hazy.  All  details  of  her  business  affairs 
she  left  to  the  attention  of  Mr.  Miles,  the  man- 
ager of  her  estate. 

Wade  Farrand  smiled  quizzically. 

"You  two  ought  to  become  better  acquainted,  to 
be  sure,"  he  said.  "You're  neighbors  and  never 
knew  it.  ...  That  land,  Miss  Ashley — yours  and 
Mr.  Marr's — lies  right  alongside  Mr.  Bristow's." 

Janet  was  not  the  only  one  whom  Farrand' s 
statement  surprised.  So  obsessed  had  Dick  been 
by  his  preconception  of  the  joint  owner,  with 
Marr,  of  the  land  on  which  he  had  an  option,  that 
he  had  never  once  suspected  Miss  Ashley's  iden- 
tity. He  had,  indeed,  almost  forgotten  that  other 
signature  upon  the  contract  he  held,  overshadowed 
as  it  had  been  by  Marr's  pervasive  personality. 
...  So  this  was  the  Janet  Ashley  who  was  a  half- 
owner  of  Aguacate !  He  murmured  something  in- 
tended to  convey  his  pleasure  over  the  circum- 
stance. And  so  he  left  them. 

The  news  set  a  new  aspect  upon  the  situation. 
Dick  did  not  pick  up  his  book  again  when  he 
reached  his  seat  a  few  cars  ahead.  There  was 
something  that  troubled  him — something  that  had 
not  hitherto  entered  his  mind.  He  knew  that  the 
land  that  he  purposed  buying  for  the  De  Boer  Ex- 


60     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

ploration  Company  was  worth  vastly  more  than 
the  sum  agreed  upon.  The  thought  of  getting  the 
better  of  Julian  Marr  had  never  bothered  his  con- 
science. And  as  for  that  unknown  Janet  Ashley, 
the  co-signer  with  Marr,  so  far  as  Dick  consid- 
ered her  interests  at  all,  it  had  merely  impressed 
him  in  a  hazy  way  that  the  supposititious  widow 
was  at  last  to  recover  what  her  husband  had  sunk 
in  the  property,  with  the  addition  of  a  very  fair 
profit  on  the  investment. 

But  now  all  that  was  altered.  Dick  saw  the 
transaction  in  an  entirely  different  light.  It  was 
not  that  he  had  experienced  any  change  of  heart 
concerning  Marr.  He  had  no  misgivings  regard- 
ing that  latter-day  buccaneer,  who  had  been  ready 
enough  to  make  him  walk  the  plank — in  a  finan- 
cial sense.  But  now  Dick  shrank  from  including 
Miss  Ashley  in  what  seemed  to  him — so  far  as  it 
affected  her — a  particularly  raw  deal.  This  was  a 
contingency  he  had  not  expected.  And  he  could 
not  see  any  decent  way  out  of  it  that  would  not 
be  ruinous  to  the  whole  enterprise  on  which  he 
had  embarked. 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  there,  looking  out  of 
the  window.  But  his  unseeing  eyes  took  little  heed 
of  the  scenes  that  flickered  past  his  vision,  like  pic- 


A  GAME  OF  CARDS  6*' 

tures  upon  a  screen.  Canefields,  piles  of  great 
logs  hauled  up  to  some  siding  where  they  awaited 
shipment,  cattle  browsing  on  a  savannah — Dick 
saw  nothing  of  such  sights. 

He  knew  that  he  was  no  angel.  But  there  were 
some  things  he  did  not  care  to  do.  This  project 
of  his  had  all  at  once  assumed  a  phase  that  he  did 
not  like  at  all.  Robbing  an  unprotected  girl  was 
a  little  more  than  he  had  bargained  for.  It 
savored  too  much  of  chicanery  to  suit  Dick's  no^ 
tions  of  right  and  wrong.  ...  It  was  too  much 
like  stealing  pennies  out  of  a  blind  beggar's  hat. 

"My  dear  boy,"  Thomas  De  Boer  said  when 
Dick  explained  his  dilemma,  "we  are  committed  to 
this  thing,  lock,  stock,  and  barrel.  There's  abso- 
lutely nothing  to  do  but  go  ahead." 

Dick  had  reappeared  in  Vera  Cruz  a  few  days 
after  that  momentous  bridge  party  upon  the  train, 
to  tell  his  predicament  to  "the  chief,"  who  still  re- 
mained in  the  Mexican  port  in  the  interest  of  his 
railroad  lobby. 

"I  don't  like  it,  nevertheless,"  Dick  told  him 
gloomily. 

"Of  course  you  don't,"  De  Boer  said.  "But 
you've  got  to  see  the  thing  through,  just  the  same. 


62     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

If  it's  any  consolation  to  you,  I  don't  mind  telling 
you  that  I've  run  across  pleasanter  situations  my- 
self. But  business  is  business.  You  can't  mix  it 
with  sentiment  and  be  successful.  Look  here !"  he 
cried  suddenly.  "How  much  would  this  young 
lady  ever  have  realized  from  her  holdings  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  you?  If  you  hadn't  been  enter- 
prising enough  to  tear  a  few  holes  in  that  moun- 
tain she  would  probably  have  died  of  senility  be- 
fore anybody  else  ever  discovered  iron  on  her 
property.  .  .  .  Come !  You  ought  to  take  a  prac- 
tical view  of  the  case.  Here  we  are  with  our  stage 
all  set  for  our  show !  You  don't  intend  to  ring  the 
final  curtain  down  on  the  prologue,  I  hope?" 

Torn  between  two  conflicting  obligations — for 
so  he  regarded  his  duty  to  the  De  Boer  Company 
and  to  Janet — Dick  could  not  help  casting  about 
for  some  compromise  that  would  give  the  girl 
what  he  considered  to  be  her  just  due,  and  at  the 
same  time  would  work  no  hardship  for  his  old 
employers.  There  he  sat,  silent,  steadfastly  star- 
ing at  the  older  man  with  enigmatic  eyes. 

Meanwhile  Thomas  De  Boer  grew  more  uneasy 
than  ever  as  he  waited  for  Dick  to  speak.  He 
sprang  up  from  his  chair  and  began  pacing  the 
floor  of  his  hotel  room. 


A  GAME  OF  CARDS  63 

"Look  here,  Dick!"  he  said  earnestly,  "do  you 
fully  realize  what's  involved  in  the  undertaking? 
What  with  making  a  survey,  hiring  title  experts, 
as  well  as  other  Mexican  lawyers  to  get  our  fran- 
chise jammed  through — to  say  nothing  of  my  own 
time  and  our  option  money — we've  already  blown 
in  a  good  many  thousand  dollars  on  this  deal. 
Now,  I  want  to  know  what  you  intend  to  do.  I 
want  you  to  promise " 

"Wait  a  moment,  Mr.  De  Boer!"  Dick  inter- 
rupted, galvanized  into  speech  at  last.  "Did  you 
ever  know  me  to  go  back  on  my  word?" 

Thomas  De  Boer  paused  in  his  nervous  quick- 
step and  leaned  upon  the  table. 

"No!"  he  cried.  "No!  And  that's  just  what 
puzzles  me  when  you  begin  to  back  water  on  this 
scheme." 

"I'm  not  backing  water!"  Dick  replied  indig- 
nantly. "All  I  want  to  do  is  to  play  fair.  I  don't 
want  to  make  my  fortune  by  robbing  a  woman." 

"Nonsense!"  the  other  cried.  "Be  sensible!  I 
tell  you,  we're  doing  this  lady  a  good  turn.  We're 
going  to  put  pin-money  into  her  pocket  to  the 
extent  of  thirty-five  thousand  dollars.  It's  the 
same  as  finding  it  in  the  gutter,  for  her."  He 
gripped  Dick's  sturdy  shoulder  with  his  own  mus- 


64     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

cular  hand.  "I  want  you  to  forget  this  foolish- 
ness, boy!"  he  pleaded. 

"Oh!  I'll  stick!"  Dick  said  ruefully.  "You 
ought  to  know  me  well  enough  not  to  doubt  that." 

De  Boer  gave  him  a  resounding  slap  on  the  back 
then. 

"That's  the  stuff !"  he  exclaimed,  with  manifest 
relief.  "But  you  had  me  worried  for  fair.  .  .  . 
Now  you  get  back  on  the  job  at  once  and  quit 
mulling  this  thing  over.  The  South  Eastern  Rail- 
way crowd  haven't  thoroughly  tumbled  to  our 
game  yet.  But  they're  bound  to  sooner  or  later. 
And  when  they  do  there'll  be  the  devil  to  pay. 
They'll  fight  our  franchise  tooth  and  nail." 

So  Dick  went  back  to  Las  Alegrias.  But  he  was 
still  far  from  satisfied.  To  be  sure,  he  intended 
to  stand  by  the  De  Boer  outfit  to  the  last  ditch. 
But  the  thought  of  Janet  Ashley  still  filled  him 
with  misgivings.  He  felt  that  in  some  way  he 
must  square  himself  with  her — and  with  his  con- 
science. 


CHAPTER   ^ 

A  SPORTING  CHANCE 

JANET  had  found  the  Mexico  she  had  dreamed 
of.  Outside  the  great  mill,  bull-teams  hauled 
enormous,  primitive,  two-wheeled  carts  laden  with 
sugar-cane,  while  here  and  there  big-hatted  na- 
tives were  usually  to  be  seen,  with  revolver  and 
machete  swinging  at  their  sides,  mounted  on 
rangy,  soft-gaited  horses  of  unmistakable  Barb  an- 
cestry. And  on  every  side  stretched  fields  of  wav- 
ing cane,  which  stopped  abruptly  before  the  un- 
subdued tangle  of  the  forest.  At  night  wild  dogs 
came  prowling  out  of  the  bush  and  yapped  a  sav- 
age chorus.  Tales  of  wealthy  planters  being  kid- 
naped and  held  for  ransom  were  not  infrequent. 
And  it  was  a  dull  week  that  did  not  furnish  its 
stabbing  affray  or  its  shooting.  To  Janet  the 
day's  happenings  seemed  like  some  drama  of  en- 
chantment, destined  to  be  enacted  forever  upon 
the  same  light-flooded  stage,  with  only  the  intcr- 

65 


66     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

lude  of  a  balmy,  star-studded  night  to  draw  a  cur- 
tain over  the  romance  that  the  morrow  always 
continued. 

On  horseback,  with  Sylvia  Marr  and  Farrand, 
Janet  explored  the  country  for  miles  around,  some- 
times in  the  cool  of  dawn,  or  again  in  the  late 
afternoon,  when  the  sun  was  low.  And  it  never 
bored  her  to  sit  quietly  under  the  shade  of  Far- 
rand's  piazza  and  look  out  upon  the  royal  palms, 
the  great  fronds  of  which  were  forever  moving  in 
fascinating  undulations  under  the  mild  winds  that 
continually  swept  inland  from  the  sea. 

Sylvia  Marr  and  her  guests  had  been  at  Rio 
Chico  for  some  three  weeks,  and  her  father  had 
not  yet  joined  them.  She  was  expecting  him  daily. 
But  during  the  time  that  had  elapsed  since  he  bade 
his  daughter  good-by  upon  the  steamer  Marr  had 
acquired  certain  information  that  caused  him  to 
delay  still  further  his  departure  from  the  States. 

One  day  Janet  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Miles, 
who  had  charge  of  her  business  affairs,  which — 
though  she  did  not  know  it — had  resulted  directly 
from  Julian  Marr's  investigations.  Janet  read 
the  communication  with  greater  interest  than  she 
was  wont,  in  the  past,  to  display  toward  Mr. 
(Miles'  letters: 


A  SPORTING  CHANCE  67 

"My  dear  Miss  Ashley: 

"Since  your  departure  from  town  I  have 
been  honored  by  a  call  from  Mr.  Julian 
Marr,  who  came  to  consult  me  regarding 
that  Mexican  land  that  you  and  he  own 
jointly.  It  appears  that  the  option  on  it  that 
we  granted  some  time  ago  was  obtained  by 
promoters  who  intended  building  a  railroad 
through  the  section  where  your  land  lies.  It 
has  apparently  been  the  intention  of  those 
promoters  not  to  exercise  their  option  until 
they  obtained  the  franchise  for  their  railroad. 
I  will  say  that  Mr.  Marr  has  given  me  most 
creditable  assurance  that  the  road  will  never 
be  built.  It  will  follow,  therefore,  that  the 
holder  of  the  option  will  permit  it  to  lapse, 
and  we  should  then  be  in  exactly  the  same 
predicament  as  before,  regarding  the  tract. 

"Now,  Mr.  Marr  is  kind  enough  to  offer 
to  take  over  your  interest  in  the  property  at 
the  figure  your  father  paid  for  it.  He  says 
that  inasmuch  as  his  own  railroad  develop- 
ment has  taken  place  in  a  direction  other  than 
that  contemplated  at  the  time  your  father  ac- 
quired his  half  of  the  tract  he  naturally  feels 
that  it  is  only  right  that  he  should  relieve  you 


68     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

of  the  burden  of  carrying  it  any  longer.  In 
view  of  the  circumstances  I  strongly  advise 
you  to  accept  Mr.  Marr's  generous  offer. 
Will  you  therefore  kindly  sign  the  enclosed 
document  in  order  that  I  may  complete  the 
transaction  ? 

"Awaiting  your  early  reply,  with  enclosure, 
I  am, 

"Respectfully  yours, 
"JOHN  RANDOLPH  MILES." 

A  few  weeks  earlier  Janet  would  have  set  her 
signature  without  hesitation  upon  any  legal  instru- 
ment that  Mr.  Miles  might  have  asked  her  to 
execute.  But  now  a  change  had  come  over  her. 
Her  stay,  brief  as  it  had  been,  in  the  midst  of  all 
that  bustling  enterprise,  where  the  clank  of  the 
mill's  rollers  scarcely  ever  ceased,  had  awakened 
in  her  a  desire  to  be  something  more  than  a  mere 
puppet  in  the  management  of  her  own  business 
affairs.  In  New  York  she  had  hardly  given  a 
thought  to  her  Mexican  holdings.  She  had 
scarcely  known  that  she  had  granted  any  one  an 
option  on  the  place.  But  now  her  interest  in  it 
was  roused.  She  had  even  wished  to  visit  that 
estate  called  Aguacate,  which  not  even  her  father 


A  SPORTING  CHANCE  69 

had  ever  seen.  But  Wade  Farrand  had  told  her 
that  the  journey  was  impracticable  for  a  woman. 

Janet  re-read  her  letter.  She  was  not  at  all 
sure  that  she  wished  to  relinquish  her  claim  upon 
a  single  square  foot  of  that  alluring  land  of 
promise.  She  wished  passionately  that  she  were  a 
man.  Then  she  might  have  jumped  upon  a  horse 
and  ridden  away  to  join  Bristow,  and  investigate 
Aguacate  herself.  But  she  was  a  mere  woman — 
she  sighed  over  the  disappointing  fact.  There 
was  one  consolation,  however.  She  felt  that  pos- 
sibly Bristow's  advice  was  worth  having;  and  if 
Mahomet  could  not  go  to  the  mountain,  the  moun- 
tain, fortunately,  could  come  to  Mahomet. 

Shortly  afterward  Mr.  Bristow  accepted  an  in- 
vitation to  spend  a  holiday  at  Rio  Chico.  And 
meanwhile  Janet  put  her  letter  carefully  away. 
She  decided  to  let  Mr.  Miles  wait  for  his  answer 
until  she  should  have  had  an  opportunity  to  talk 
with  Dick  Bristow.  She  thought  that  as  the  owner 
of  land  adjoining  hers  he  could  no  doubt  give  her 
information  worth  listening  to. 

In  a  foreign  land  fellow-countrymen  form  rapid 
friendships.  And  during  his  short  visit  at  Rio 
Chico  Bristow  and  Janet  soon  arrived  at  a  basis 


70     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

of  acquaintance  that  would  have  been  possible,  in 
New  York,  only  after  the  lapse  of  many  months. 

As  luck  had  it,  a  breakdown  in  the  factory  on 
the  day  following  Dick's  arrival  kept  Farrand 
busy.  It  was  then  that  Janet  suggested  a  ride  to 
the  guest.  Sylvia  Marr  pleaded  some  excuse  for 
not  joining  them.  Women  are  more  subtle  than 
men  in  such  matters,  and  Sylvia  divined  the  fact 
that  Janet  wished  to  be  alone  with  Mr.  Bristow. 

As  for  Dick  himself,  no  one  would  have  been 
more  astonished  than  he  to  know  that  Miss  Ashley 
was  maneuvering  to  have  a  talk  with  him  pri- 
vately. Unsuspecting,  he  rode  off  with  her,  on  a 
trail  that  led  them  along  the  river  and  far  away 
from  any  but  some  countryman  who  might  be 
passing  on  his  way  to  or  from  the  town. 

"Tell  me,"  Janet  said  at  last,  utell  me  what 
you  know  about  Aguacate.  It's  near  you,  you 
remember.  Mr.  Farrand  told  us  that  in  the 
train." 

"What  I  know  about  it!"  Dick  echoed,  with 
sudden  misgiving. 

She  nodded  vigorously  and  smiled  encourage- 
ment at  him. 

"Yes !    All  you  know  about  it !" 

Poor  Dick  upbraided  himself  for  having  put 


A  SPORTING  CHANCE  71 

himself  into  so  uncomfortable  a  position.  All  he 
knew  about  that  iron-laden  mountain !  That  was 
the  last  thing  in  the  world  that  he  wanted  to — or 
could — talk  about. 

"Why — why "  he  stammered,  "I've  never 

ridden  over  the  whole  property.  It's  not  unlike 
most  other  big  tracts,  in  some  respects.  There's 
some  good  and  some  poor  land  upon  it." 

"Is  it  worth  my  while  to  keep  my  interest  in  it?" 
she  asked  him,  quite  oblivious  of  the  consterna- 
tion she  had  created  in  her  companion. 

"Keep  it?"  Dick  said.  "How  can  you?  You've 
signed  away  an  option  on  the  property,  along  with 
Mr.  Marr." 

"Oh!  You  know  about  that,  then?"  she  said 
quickly. 

"Yes!" 

"Well,  I'm  told  that  Aguacate  will  never  be  sold 
in  that  way,"  she  said.  "Here's  a  letter,"  she 
continued,  holding  an  envelope  out  to  Dick.  "I 
wish  you  would  read  it  and  tell  me  just  what  you 
think." 

He  could  not  decently  refuse  to  take  the  letter 
from  her. 

"I  ought  not  to  open  this,"  he  objected. 
"Really,  I — I'd  much  rather  not.  I  don't  want  to 


72      THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

be  disobliging,  but  I'm  not  sure  you  ought  to  let  me 
see  this,"  he  said. 

"Why  not?"  Janet  demanded.  "You're  an 
honest  man,  I'm  sure — and  my  friend." 

"Yes,  I'm  both— I  hope,"  Dick  said.  "But  be- 
fore I  look  at  this  letter  I  want  to  ask  you  a  ques- 
tion. .  .  .  Do  you  know  who  I  am?" 

Miss  Ashley  gave  a  merry  laugh  at  that. 

"Why,  yes!"  she  exclaimed.  "You're  Mr. 
Richard  Bristow — famous  crew-man,  gentleman- 
adventurer,  succorer  of  ladies  in  distress,  gal- 
lant  " 

"No,  no!"  Dick  interrupted.  "Be  serious, 
please!" 

"Oh !  I  suppose,  then,  that  you're  an  escaped 
moving-picture  actor,  perhaps;  or  maybe  you're 
searching  for  buried  treasure.  They  tell  me 
there's  pirate  gold  hidden  over  much  of  this  lo- 
cality." 

"I'm  sorry  to  disappoint  you,"  Dick  told  her, 
experiencing  another  qualm  when  she  spoke  of 
buried  treasure.  That  was  a  random  shot  that 
came  too  close  to  the  mark.  "I'm  sorry,"  he  said, 
"but  I'm  neither  the  one  thing  nor  the  other.  .  .  . 
I  didn't  mean  to  make  a  man  of  mystery  of  myself 
when  I  asked  you  that  question.  ...  I  say,  Miss 


A  SPORTING  CHANCE  73 

Ashley!  Do  you  know  who  holds  the  option  on 
that  property  of  yours?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Behold  the  guilty  man !"  Dick  said  gloomily. 

"How  delightful !"  Janet  laughed.  "To  tell  the 
truth,  I'm  sure  I  never  read  the  paper  that  Mr. 
Miles — he's  my  lawyer — asked  me  to  sign.  Why, 
it  seems  to  me  you're  the  very  best  person  in  the 
world  for  me  to  consult  about  that  letter.  .  .  ^ 
Read  it,  Sir  Knight!  I  command  thee!" 

Dick  scanned  the  letter  then.  The  thing  was 
as  clear  as  day  to  him.  Marr  intended  to  divert 
ten  thousand  dollars  from  Miss  Ashley's  pocket 
into  his  own.  After  buying  her  interest,  he  ex- 
pected to  sell  the  whole  property  to  Dick  and  clear 
twenty  thousand  dollars  on  the  deal.  And  after 
that  he  purposed  blocking  Dick's  plans  for  a  rail- 
road. News  of  Marr's  counter  move  had,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  already  reached  Dick  through  De 
Boer's  agents. 

"Why  did  you  want  me  to  read  this?"  he  asked 
her  when  he  had  finished. 

"Because  I  wish  to  know  if  I  ought  to  sell  now," 
she  explained.  "Of  course,  you  understand  that  I 
trust  Mr.  Miles  absolutely.  It's  simply  that  I  don't 
like  being  led  about  by  the  nose,  just  because  I'm 


74     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

a  woman.  I  don't  care  to  sign  a  paper  merely 
because  some  man  makes  a  pencil  cross  at  the  end 
of  a  document  and  writes  'Sign  here !'  beside  it. 
I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  I  had  better  do,"  she 
added,  since  he  still  remained  silent. 

"I  can't  advise  you,"  Dick  said  shortly.  "I  can 
Only  say  that  I  intend  to  buy  Aguacate,  notwith- 
standing the  prophecy  Mr.  Marr  has  made  to  your 
attorney.  My  plans  do  hinge  upon  a  railroad  be- 
ing built — I  won't  deny  that.  And  I  don't  doubt 
that  Mr.  Marr  intends  to  block  the  new  road.  He 
doesn't  think  we  can  ever  put  it  through — and  I 
do!  It's  a  fight,  you  see. 

"Now,  that's  all  I  can  say.  You  know  the  facts 
— so  far  as  I  am  able  to  tell  them.  And  if  you 
insist  on  taking  the  matter  out  of  your  lawyer's 
hands  you  ought  to  base  your  decision  on  what- 
ever you  think  is  likely  to  happen.  It's  Mr. 
Marr's  judgment  against  mine.  And  I  warn  you 
that  ninety-nine  people  out  of  a  hundred  would 
back  Julian  Marr.  He  has  a  reputation,  you 
know.  And  I  haven't." 

Janet  had  listened  eagerly  to  Dick's  terse  re- 
cital. The  situation  electrified  her.  She  per- 
ceived, in  a  flash  of  understanding,  the  fight  that 
was  imminent  between  her  new  friend  and  Sylvia's 


A  SPORTING  CHANCE  75 

father — the  struggle  for  mastery  which  always 
attends  any  great  undertaking.  And  the  thought 
that  her  own  interests  were  involved  in  that  con- 
test fired  her  with  a  passionate  desire  to  stay  as 
near  the  scrimmage  as  she  could  get. 

"It's  what  you  would  call  a  sporting  chance,  isn't 
it?"  she  asked  breathlessly. 

Dick  nodded  grimly. 

Instinctively  her  sympathy  went  out  to  him.  She 
knew  that  Julian  Marr  was  one  of  the  world's 
great  geniuses.  He  was  a  sort  of  superman,  with 
a  quality  of  mind  such  as  the  gods  bestow  only 
upon  two  or  three  in  a  generation.  He  seemed  to 
have  all  information  stored  in  his  big  brain,  ready 
for  instant  use ;  he  had  acquired  vast  wealth ;  and 
he  possessed  the  faculty  of  persuading  other  men 
of  immense  fortunes  to  share  his  colossal  ven- 
tures; he  was  a  man  of  imagination — his  stu- 
pendous, world-wide  accomplishments  testified  to 
that  fact;  and  he  had  the  invaluable  asset  of  being 
able  to  harness  initiative  and  action  to  his  imagi- 
native traits.  It  was  no  wonder  that  men  fell  un- 
der his  spell.  Janet  was  not  surprised  that  her 
own  father  had  been  swayed  by  his  powerful  per- 
sonality. 

And    yet    she    sympathized   with    Dick — with 


76     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

Dick,  whose  wings  were  as  yet  virtually  untested. 
Perhaps  her  sympathy  was  of  the  under-dog  vari- 
ety— the  sort  that  goes  out  from  noble  hearts  to 
the  valiant  weak  battling  against  the  strong.  At 
all  events,  Janet  knew  that  she  wanted  Dick  to 
win. 

"It's  a  sporting  chancel"  she  repeated. 

"A  hundred-to-one  shot !"  Dick  said. 

She  looked  at  him,  almost  tenderly,  with  eyes 
that  changed  from  softness  to  a  blue  blaze  as  she 
cried  passionately : 

"I'll  not  sell!  I  believe  you're  going  to  win! 
.  .  .  You  must  win !"  she  told  him  fiercely. 

Dick  grasped  the  hand  she  held  out  to  him. 
There  was  no  mawkish  sentimentality  in  the  ac- 
tion. It  was  simply  that  their  young  hearts 
reached  out  to  each  other  in  a  fleeting  moment  of 
mutual  understanding. 

"Thank  you!"  he  said.  And  there  was  grati- 
tude in  his  voice — and  more  than  that ;  for  he  felt 
guiltier  than  ever.  And  again  he  promised  him- 
self that  he  would  make  restitution  to  her  for 
every  penny  that  he  had  schemed — albeit  unknow- 
ingly— to  filch  from  her. 

A  week  later  Mr.  John  Randolph  Miles,  seated 


A  SPORTING  CHANCE  77 

at  his  desk  in  his  Broad  Street  office  in  New  York, 
experienced  a  decided  shock  as  he  read  Miss  Ash- 
ley's reply  to  his  letter.  He  was  not  of  the  swear- 
ing sort,  being  a  gentleman  of  the  most  exemplary 
habits,  so  he  confined  his  manifestation  of  aston- 
ishment to  a  mere  lifting  of  his  bushy  gray  eye- 
brows. But  he  was  none  the  less  nonplussed. 
...  A  chit  of  a  girl,  to  take  the  bit  in  her  teeth 
like  that!  .  .  .  Mr.  Miles  shook  his  head  sadly. 
He  foresaw  endless  difficulties,  now,  with  what 
had  promised  to  be  a  most  amenable  client.  .  .  . 
Julian  Marr,  when  he  received  Mr.  Miles'  re- 
port upon  his  kind  offer  to  purchase  Miss  Ashley's 
interest  in  their  jointly  owned  property,  displayed 
his  feelings  somewhat  more  energetically.  He  was 
a  widely  traveled  man.  He  had,  in  fact,  been 
everywhere.  And  he  had  long  since  learned, 
where  Mexican  affairs  were  concerned,  to  do  as 
Mexicans  did.  Fortunately,  Marr's  knowledge 
of  Spanish,  though  extremely  limited,  was  suffi- 
cient unto  his  present  needs.  He  always  claimed 
that  a  man  might  exist  well  enough  in  a  foreign 
country  by  pointing  to  his  mouth  when  he  was 
hungry,  and  by  laying  his  head  upon  his  hand  in 
feigned  sleep  when  he  wanted  a  bed.  A  few  vig- 


78      THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

orous  expletives,  however,  Julian  Marr  deemed 
to  be  essential.  Of  such  he  had  acquired  a  small 
but  choice  assortment.  And  of  these  he  now 
made  excellent  use. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  SPOKE  IN  THE  WHEEL 

MR.  JULIAN  MARK  had  left  Washington  in  ex- 
cellent spirits.  While  there  he  had  convinced  a 
certain  powerful  personage  of  the  expediency  of 
nipping  the  budding  ambitions  of  the  De  Boer  Ex- 
ploration Company.  And  he  had  received  every 
assurance  that  at  the  opportune  moment  the  ad- 
ministration would  bring  pressure  to  bear  upon 
the  Mexican  Government  which  would  prevent  the 
granting  of  a  franchise  for  the  projected  railroad. 
It  would  be  very  embarrassing  if  those  gentlemen 
in  Wall  Street  who  held  large  blocks  of  stock — 
and  bonds  as  well — of  the  South  Eastern  Railway 
Company  of  Mexico  should  for  any  reason  with- 
hold their  customary  campaign  contributions.  Of 
course,  Marr  was  not  so  indiscreet  as  to  mention 
any  such  contingency.  But  he  contrived,  in  a  deli- 
cate way,  to  make  the  situation  sufficiently  clear. 
What  pleased  him  particularly  was  this:  the 

79 


80     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

Washington  official  with  whom  he  held  his  confer- 
ences had  agreed  to  accept  Mr.  Marr's  expert 
judgment  as  to  when  the  psychological  moment  to 
act  should  have  arrived.  Accordingly,  Marr  hur- 
ried back  to  New  York  to  make  his  philanthropic 
offer  to  Janet's  lawyer.  Although  his  ten-thou- 
sand-pound salary  as  president  of  the  South  East- 
ern Railway  was  only  a  small  part  of  his  enor- 
mous income,  Julian  Marr  was  not  above  exerting 
himself  to  divert  a  paltry  ten  thousand  dollars  to 
the  right  side  of  his  bank  account.  Being  of  an 
acquisitive  nature,  it  always  pleased  him  when  he 
was  able  to  add  an  extra  feather  to  his  nest. 

Although  he  had  been  piqued,  Marr  had  not 
been  seriously  disappointed  by  Miles'  report  of 
Janet's  unexpected  decision.  He  did  not  doubt 
his  ability  to  convince  her  of  the  advisability  of 
selling  her  share  in  Aguacate  to  him,  once  he 
could  talk  to  her  himself.  So  he  had  proceeded  to 
Mexico  quite  confident  as  to  the  outcome  of  his 
little  plan. 

Janet  Ashley  listened  attentively  to  what  Mr. 
Marr  was  saying. 

"You  see,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he  explained, 
"this  is  an  opportunity  that  you  cannot  afford  to 


A  SPOKE  IN  THE  WHEEL         81 

neglect.  It  is  only  just,  too,  that  I  should  take 
the  property  off  your  hands.  I  influenced  your 
father  to  put  his  money  into  it — at  the  time  I  con- 
sidered it  to  be  an  excellent  investment.  .  .  .  But 
we  all  make  mistakes.  That  was  one  of  mine. 
And  now  I  stand  ready  to  make  amends.  For  five 
years  I  have  hoped  that  we  might  be  able  to  swing 
a  branch  line  near  the  tract.  But  circumstances 
have  never  been  right  for  such  a  move.  They  are 
not  right  now.  I  doubt  if  they  will  be  for  years 
to  come.  So  why  should  you  let  your  good  money 
lie  idle  indefinitely?" 

Janet  startled  Sylvia's  father  then. 

"But  isn't  there  to  be  a  railroad  built  out  that 
way  soon?"  she  inquired — "by  some  one  else,  I 
mean?" 

Marr  snorted  his  ridicule  of  such  an  event. 

"All  tommy-rot!"  he  exclaimed.  "It's  just  an- 
other of  those  wild  schemes  that  are  always  agi- 
tated in  a  developing  country — and  never  materi- 
alize. I  promise  you  there'll  be  no  road  built  there 
until  I  build  it  myself." 

"Mr.  Bristow  thinks  differently,"  Janet  ob- 
jected, thereby  exploding  another  bomb  under  her 
elderly  friend. 

"Mr.  Bristow?    Pooh !  pooh !"  he  scoff ed.    "A 


82     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

mere  boy!  .  .  .  What  does  he  know  of  such 
things?  And  where,  pray,  did  you  happen  to  meet 
him?" 

"Mr.  Farrand  introduced  him  to  us,  on  the 
train,  coming  from  Vera  Cruz,"  Janet  told  him. 
"And  later  he  spent  a  day  or  two  with  us  here." 

"He  did,  eh?"  said  Marr.  "And  he  talked  to 
you,  did  he,  about  his  ambitions?"  He  resolved 
thereupon  to  give  Farrand  a  piece  of  his  mind  for 
being  so  indiscreet. 

"Oh!  I  asked  him  to  tell  me  about  Aguacate," 
Janet  hastened  to  explain.  "He  wouldn't  have 
mentioned  the  matter  to  me,  otherwise,  I'm  sure. 
He  doesn't  seem  to  be  a  person  who  talks  much 
about  his  business  affairs." 

Marr  smiled  knowingly  at  that. 

"I  thought  as  much,"  he  said.  "His  affairs,  I 
imagine,  are  not  the  sort  to  bear  an  airing.  .  .  . 
Mexico's  full  of  his  like,"  he  declared.  "This 
country's  a  Mecca  for  ne'er-do-wells — chaps  who 
for  one  reason  or  another  find  the  climate  more 
healthful  than  the  one  they've  been  living  in. 
Sometimes  they  aren't  wanted  at  home,  and  their 
families  ship  them  down  here  and  pay  'em  to  stay 
away.  And  then,  on  the  other  hand,  sometimes 
they  are  wanted — by  the  police." 


83 

But  Julian  Marr's  insinuations  did  not  influence 
Janet  in  the  least. 

"You're  very  kind,"  she  said.  "Don't  think, 
please,  that  I  don't  appreciate  your  offer.  But 
I've  managed  thus  far  to  get  along  very  well  with- 
out the  money  that  Father  invested  in  your  land. 
And  I  am  unbusinesslike  enough  to  prefer  to  let 
it  remain  where  he  put  it — unless,  of  course,  Mr. 
Bristow  decides  to  buy  the  property.  .  .  .  I'm 
committed  to  that  option,  I  know.  But  I'm  not 
sure  I  should  have  signed  it  if  I  had  known  what 
it  meant." 

Marr  was  at  some  difficulty  to  keep  his  temper. 
But  he  managed  a  plausible  imitation  of  good- 
natured  indulgence  as  he  said: 

"Oh!  you  needn't  worry  on  that  score.  That 
option  is  bound  to  lapse.  I'll  guarantee  that  Bris- 
tow will  never  buy  Aguacate.  In  the  first  place, 
I  don't  think  he  has  a  penny  to  buy  it  with.  And 
in  the  second,  I'll  wager  that  more  land  is  the 
last  thing  he  wants. 

"You  see,  Miss  Janet,  I  have  had  some  experi- 
ence with  these  fellows.  Bristow  is  mixed  up  in 
some  wildcat  land  swindle.  It's  an  old  game,  but 
it  still  works.  It's  played  this  way :  you  buy  some 
worthless  tract  for  about  a  dollar  and  a  half  an 


84     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

acre.  Then  you  get  an  option  on  more  land,  to 
convince  people  that  it's  a  big  scheme,  you  know. 
And  in  this  case  I  don't  doubt  that  my  name  ap- 
pears in  Bristow's  advertising  'literature,'  as  they 
call  it — ha  !  ha !  No  doubt  he  considered  it  worth 
spending  a  thousand  dollars  just  to  be  able  to  drag 
my  name  in,  merely  to  say  that  he  had  an  option  on 
my  land. 

"As  for  his  railway — that's  a  bluff,  pure  and 
simple.  Even  'if  he  gets  a  franchise,  he'll  never 
build  his  road.  He'll  use  the  bare  franchise  to 
convince  the  public  that  the  road  is  coming  through 
the  property.  He  will  even  take  prospective  pur- 
chasers of  'homesteads,'  or  'plantations,'  or 
'orange-groves,'  or  whatever  he  calls  his  bait — 
he'll  even  take  them  out  to  the  tract  and  show 
them  blazes  on  trees,  to  mark  the  right  of  way  of 
the  line."  Julian  Marr  laughed  heartily.  "That's 
how  the  thing's  done!"  he  resumed.  "Of  course, 
it's  only  the  careful  ones  who'll  ever  see  the  place 
before  buying.  For  the  most  part,  Bristow  will 
sell  twenty-acre  plots  to  poor  clergymen  and  wid- 
ows with  growing  families,  and  discouraged 
Northern  farmers.  I've  seen  the  thing  done  many 
times.  Haven't  I  seen  shiploads  of  those  unfor- 
tunate dupes,  coming  to  this  'coast  of  opportunity,' 


A  SPOKE  IN  THE  WHEEL         85 

as  the  rogues'  prospectus  calls  it?"  Marr  shook 
his  head  in  righteous  indignation.  "Those  that 
have  money  enough  to  get  home  again  are  lucky," 
he  added.  "Why — I've  given  dozens  of  'em  free 
transportation  to  help  'em  reach  a  port  where  they 
could  get  cheap  passage  back  to  the  States  on  some 
old  hulk." 

He  paused  then  and  looked  at  Janet  expect- 
antly. He  had  been  irritated  by  his  failure  to 
sway  her.  And  now  he  had  gone  decidedly  out 
of  his  way  to  win  his  point.  He  had  often  used 
fewer  words  to  persuade  some  capitalist  to  invest 
a  million  in  his  enterprises. 

But  Janet  was  adamant. 

"I  don't  believe  Mr.  Bristow  is  that  sort  of 
man,"  she  said.  "I'll  just  wait,  anyhow,  and  see 
what  happens.  All  this  is  so  interesting,  Mr. 
Marr !  I  feel  as  if  I  were  in  a  play  or  a  romantic 
novel — a  minor  character,  you  know,  who  stands 
in  the  background  and  looks  on."  And  she  smiled 
sweetly  at  him. 

The  president  of  the  South  Eastern  Railway 
Company  grunted.  He  was  a  hard  fighter.  But 
he  never  wasted  much  of  his  valuable  time  jousting 
against  windmills. 

"Well,  well!"  he  said  quickly.     "Of  course  it 


86     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

doesn't  matter  to  me.  I  only  thought  I  was  doing 
you  a  kindness.  I  thought  perhaps  Miles  hadn't 
made  the  thing  clear  to  you." 

"I  think  I  understand  the  situation  perfectly," 
Janet  said,  with  an  unwarranted  assurance  that 
made  the  full-blooded  Marr  grow  a  bit  red  in  the 
neck.  He  began  to  feel  that  he  had  been  near  to 
letting  that  slip  of  a  girl  make  a  fool  of  him. 
And  yet  he  hardly  gave  her  credit  for  fathoming 
his  motives.  He  did  not  believe  that  she  was  so 
astute  as  all  that.  But  she  had  a  better  head  on 
her  shoulders  than  her  father  had  had — he  was 
sure  of  that ! 

"Well,  well !  Well,  well !"  he  repeated  jerkily. 
And  tapering  off  the  conversation  with  another 
grunt,  he  withdrew  to  his  own  room.  There  was 
a  bottle  of  uncommonly  fine  Scotch  in  his  bulky 
English  kit-bag,  and  talking  always  made  Julian 
Marr's  throat  feel  dry. 

Balked  as  he  was  in  his  attempt  to  inveigle 
Janet  into  selling  him  her  land  holdings,  Marr  saw 
nothing  to  do  except  wait  until  the  De  Boer  Ex- 
ploration Company  should  have  obtained  its  fran- 
chise. He  was  confident  that  with  their  plans 


A  SPOKE  IN  THE  WHEEL         87 

advanced  to  that  extent  the  De  Boers  would  no 
longer  delay  exercising  their  option  to  buy  Agua- 
cate.  And  then  he  would  realize  a  respectable 
profit  on  his  land  venture — though  to  be  sure  it 
would  be  only  half  what  he  had  hoped  for. 

Now,  Marr  had  unbounded  faith  in  the  ability 
of  Washington  to  quash  the  franchise,  even  after 
it  had  been  duly  ratified  by  the  Mexican  Govern- 
ment. He  waited,  accordingly,  busying  himself 
meanwhile  with  matters  pertaining  to  his  own 
South  Eastern  Railway.  He  was  not  in  the  least 
apprehensive.  Indeed,  the  whole  proceeding — 
aside  from  the  phase  that  concerned  Janet — was 
entirely  to  his  liking.  For  Julian  Marr  was  ever  a 
cheerful  gambler — especially  with  a  stacked  deck 
of  cards. 

Then  came  a  rumor  that  almost  disconcerted 
him,  for  the  moment.  An  acquaintance  of  his, 
whom  he  met  one  day  in  Mexico  City,  mentioned 
to  him  casually  that  he  understood  the  De  Boers 
were  about  to  develop  a  new  iron  mine  in  the 
tierra  caliente. 

Marr  preserved  an  unruffled  front  as  he  lis- 
tened. But  he  cut  short  his  stay  in  the  capital. 
And  with  him  that  night,  as  his  special  train  went 


88     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

reeling  southward  over  the  uneven  road-bed,  there 
traveled  an  engineering  party  that  he  had  com- 
mandeered from  a  convenient  mine. 

Four  days  later  the  rumor  had  become  a  cer- 
tainty. And  almost  coincident  with  the  report  of 
Marr's  engineers,  when  they  returned  to  Rio 
Chico,  saddle-sore  and  dirty  from  their  prospect- 
ing trip,  there  came  a  telegram  from  Mexico  City 
announcing  the  passage  of  the  bill  relating  to  the 
new  railroad.  The  De  Boer  franchise  had  been 
jammed  through  in  record  time. 

Marr  swore  roundly  at  the  untoward  turn  of 
events.  And  immediately  he  bestirred  himself  to 
take  a  hand  in  the  proceedings.  Matters  had 
reached  such  a  stage  that  he  must  not  only  act, 
but  act  quickly.  And  he  no  longer  wanted  to  dis- 
pose of  Aguacate. 

That  day  the  cables  carried  a  terse  and  guarded 
message  to  a  certain  gentleman  in  Washington. 

Wade  Farrand  and  Marr  were  alone  in  the 
manager's  private  office. 

"Look  here,  Farrand!"  Marr  was  saying. 
"You  seem  to  be  on  good  terms  with  this  young 
friend  of  my  daughter's.  Now,  I'd  like  you  to 
talk  with  her.  You  know  that  land  that  her  fa- 


A  SPOKE  IN  THE  WHEEL         89 

ther  invested  in  with  me?  .  .  .  Well,  I  want  to 
buy  it — her  share.  Never  mind  why.  I  want  it. 
That's  reason  enough. 

"That  fellow  Bristow  has  an  option  on  it.  But 
I'll  fix  things  so  he'll  never  make  use  of  it.  I  gave 
you  the  devil  the"  other  day  for  having  him  around 
here.  But  maybe  you  weren't  so  much  to  blame, 
after  all.  Don't  ask  him  here  again,  though.  So 
far  as  we're  concerned,  he's  a  swindler — a  con- 
fidence-man. 

"See  that  you  make  that  much  clear  to  the  girl. 
And  tell  her — hell ! — tell  her  I'm  hurt  and  disap- 
pointed that  she  won't  let  me  buy  that  land.  I 
feel  I  owe  it  to  her,  for  her  father's  sake — our 
friendship — that  sort  of  stuff,  you  know. 

"You  do  this  work  well  and  you  won't  be  the 
loser.  .  .  .  You  understand?" 

Farrand  nodded.  He  had  a  mighty  curiosity  to 
know  why  Mr.  Marr  was  so  keen  about  obtaining 
sole  control  of  that  mediocre  tract  which  had  lain 
fallow  all  those  years.  .  .  .  He  decided,  at 
length,  that  his  chief  contemplated  running  a 
branch  line  near  the  place. 

"I'll  do  what  I  can,"  he  told  his  patron.  "Miss 
Ashley  and  I  are  pretty  good  friends.  I  think 
she'll  listen  to  me." 


90     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"Good!"  said  Marr.  "Don't  lose  any  time, 
now.  And  if  you  succeed — well,  I  won't  say  just 
what  I'll  do  for  you.  .  .  .  Something  worth  while 
— you  know  that !" 

"I'll  talk  with  her  to-night!"  Farrand  prom- 
ised. 

"I'm  afraid  Mr.  Marr's  rather  done  up,"  Far- 
rand  remarked  to  Janet  after  that  personage  had 
retired  at  what  was,  for  him,  an  unusually  early 
hour.  Marr  had  complained  of  a  headache;  and 
he  had  yielded  to  Sylvia's  solicitude  to  the  extent 
of  letting  her  read  to  him  until  he  should  fall 
asleep.  Having  thus  successfully  cleared  the 
decks  for  action,  as  he  left  the  room  he  had  shot  a 
significant  glance  at  Farrand,  as  if  to  say  that 
England  expected  every  man  to  do  his  duty. 

"I  never  saw  such  a  man  for  work,"  Farrand 
observed.  "He  doesn't  know  what  it  is  to  spare 
himself.  And  the  curious  part  of  it  is  that  he's  al- 
ways exerting  himself  for  somebody  else's  benefit. 
You'd  think  that  at  his  age,  and  with  his  fortune, 
he'd  be  content  to  play  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 
He's  already  accomplished  the  labors  of  a  dozen 
competent  men.  But  he  won't  consider  retiring. 
He  holds  that  just  as  long  as  he  lives  he  owes  a 


A  SPOKE  IN  THE  WHEEL         91 

duty  to  those  who  have  invested  in  his  enterprises. 
So  he  sticks  to  his  last,  while  the  other  fellow 
reaps  the  reward." 

"He's  wonderful,  isn't  he?"  said  Janet. 

"A  marvelous  man  1"  Farrand  exclaimed.  "He 
puts  every  ounce  of  his  energy  into  whatever  he 
happens  to  be  doing.  If  he's  fighting  an  enemy— > 
a  man  in  his  position  is  bound  to  have  enemies — 
he  fights  terrifically.  And  if  he's  doing  a  favor 
for  a  friend  he  can't  do  enough  for  him.  ...  I 
can  vouch  for  that.  There  isn't  a  kinder  man  in 
the  world. 

"Your  father  and  he  were  great  friends,"  Far- 
rand  observed,  after  a  pause. 

"Yes !"  Janet  said.  "At  least,  I  know  Father 
admired  Mr.  Marr  very  much." 

"That  land  deal  that  your  father  went 
into "  he  spoke  reminiscently.  "It  has  wor- 
ried Mr.  Marr,"  he  confided  to  her.  "He  has 
always  been  greatly  disappointed  that  it  turned  out 
as  it  has.  I  happen  to  know  that  it  has  weighed 
heavily  on  his  conscience — the  thought  that  he  may 
have  influenced  your  father  to  invest  his  money  in 
a  venture  that  was  not  successful. 

"This  is  confidential,  of  course.  Perhaps  I 
ought  not  to  tell  you  all  this.  But  haven't  I  seen 


92     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

Mr.  Marr  wince  whenever  Aguacate  was  men- 
tioned to  him?  It's  a  very  sore  subject  for  him — 
not  that  he  cares  about  his  own  pocketbook;  but 
he  can't  bear  to  see  a  friend  lose  a  penny  through 
him." 

"I  know  he's  kind,"  Janet  agreed.  "Why,  he's 
even  offered  to  buy  my  share  in  the  property." 

"The  deuce  he  has!"  said  Farrand.  "Well,  if 
that  isn't  just  like  him !  I  call  it  mighty  white  of 
him — don't  you?" 

"It's  certainly  a  generous  thing  to  do,"  said 
Janet. 

"All  of  that !"  Farrand  agreed.  "But  I'll  wager 
Mr.  Marr  doesn't  look  at  the  thing  in  any  such 
light.  He  probably  thinks  you  are  doing  him  a 
favor  by  letting  him  take  the  land  off  your  hands. 
No  doubt  he  reckons  himself  the  gainer  in  the 
transaction — because  of  the  peace  of  mind  it  will 
bring  him." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  Janet  asked.  She  had  not 
thought  of  that.  And  she  looked  somewhat  trou- 
bled as  she  said,  "But  I'm  not  going  to  accept  his 
offer." 

"What  1"  Farrand  cried.  "You've  turned  down 
his  offer?  You  don't  mean  to  say  you're  going  to 
hang  onto  that  pig-in-a-poke,  Aguacate?"  He 


A  SPOKE  IN  THE  WHEEL         93 

stared  at  her  in  well- feigned  astonishment.  "My 
dear  Miss  Ashley,  you  mustn't  do  that !"  he  said. 
"You  owe  it  to  yourself — to  your  father — to  get 
rid  of  that  land." 

"But  I  expect  to  sell  it,  some  day,"  Janet  ex- 
plained. "Mr.  Bristow  holds  an  option  on  it,  you 
know." 

"Bristow!  Ha,  ha!"  Farrand  was  quite  un- 
able to  conceal  his  amusement  at  the  idea  of  Dick 
Bristow's  buying  anything.  "Bless  your  heart!" 
he  said,  "that  chap's  just  a  four-flusher.  Old  Cis- 
neros — he's  Mr.  Marr's  land  commissioner — fell 
for  his  little  game  of  bluff.  But  no  one  else  does. 
He'll  be  down  and  out  before  you  know  it.  That's 
the  way  with  fellows  like  him.  They  never  last 
long.  As  soon  as  their  bank-roll  is  gone — and  I 
suppose  Bristow  had  some  sort  of  stake — as  soon 
as  it's  slipped  through  their  fingers  they're  done 
for. 

"I'm  glad  you  told  me  about  this.  It  would 
have  been  a  pity  for  you  to  miss  a  good  thing,  Miss 
Ashley.  If  you  refused  Mr.  Marr's  offer  I'm 
afraid  he  would  be  so  disappointed  and  hurt  and 
chagrined  that  he'd  never  want  to  mention  the 
subject  to  you  again.  And  there  you'd  be — stuck 
with  that  worthless  land!" 


94     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"You  don't  think  much  of  my  land,  I'm  afraid," 
Janet  observed. 

"How  can  I,  when  I  know  exactly  what  it  is?" 
he  retorted. 

"Well,  I  can't  accept  Mr.  Marr's  offer,  any- 
how," she  announced. 

"Can't?    Why  not?" 

"I've  promised  Mr.  Bristow  I  wouldn't." 

"Well,  I'm "  He  caught  himself  in  time. 

"I'm  astounded!"  he  said,  though  that  was  not 
precisely  the  word  that  had  leaped  to  his  lips. 
"What  on  earth  possessed  you  to  do  a  thing  like 
that?  I'm  sorry  I  ever  introduced  Bristow  to  you. 
It's  all  my  fault.  But  I'd  no  idea  the  fellow  would 
have  the  effrontery  to  approach  you  with  his  land 
schemes." 

"You  do  Mr.  Bristow  an  injustice,"  Janet  said 
quietly.  "It  was  I  who  did  the  approaching — 
not  he!" 

"Why,  Miss  Ashley  I  You  amaze  me!"  For 
once,  at  least,  during  that  conversation,  Farrand 
told  the  truth.  "If  you  wanted  advice,  why  didn't 
you  come  to  me?" 

"Frankly,  because  I  thought  Mr.  Bristow  knew 
more  about  my  land  than  you  did,"  she  told  him. 

"Yes — yes!     But  surely  you  should  have  be- 


A  SPOKE  IN  THE  WHEEL         95 

lieved  me  more  trustworthy  than  a  mere  chance 
acquaintance  like  him,"  he  protested. 

"You  introduced  him  to  me,"  she  reminded 
him. 

"Ah,  yes !  But  only  because  we  needed  a  fourth 
hand  at  bridge.  ...  I  should  have  warned  you 
against  confiding  in  strangers  in  this  country." 

"He  seems  straightforward,"  Janet  remarked 
thoughtfully.  It  was  hard  for  her  to  believe  that 
Bristow  was  a  rascal. 

"They  all  do!"  Farrand  said  with  an  air  of 
great  conviction. 

Still  Janet  was  not  persuaded. 

"I  hope  you're  mistaken  in  him — you  and  Mr. 
Marr,"  she  told  Farrand  wistfully.  "Anyhow,  I 
must  do  as  I  said  I  was  going  to  do." 

"What !  You  don't  mean  that  you're  going  to 
be  influenced  now  by  what  Bristow  said  to  you?" 
Farrand  protested. 

"Really,  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  break  my 
word,  just  because  you  think  Mr.  Bristow  is  not 
an  honorable  man.  Surely  you  don't  think  I  could 
do  that?" 

Wade  Farrand's  eyes  shifted  uncomfortably 
under  her  steady  gaze. 


96     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"That's  not  exactly  a  fair  way  to  put  the 
case "  he  began. 

"Oh — then  you  don't  approve  of  me — any  more 
than  you  do  of  Mr.  Bristow!"  she  said  quickly. 

"Now,  now!  My  dear "  He  caught  at 

her  hand. 

"Please  don't!"  she  said  quietly,  drawing  away. 
"I  suppose  you  think  me  a  fool  not  to  do  as  you 
advise.  But  there  is  really  no  use  of  your  urging 
me.  My  mind  is  quite  made  up.  ...  I  think 
Mr.  Marr  understands  that.  ." 


CHAPTER  VII 

TREASON 

IN  view  of  the  failure  of  his  mission,  Farrand 
dreaded  to  face  Marr  the  following  morning.  But 
he  knew  that  he  must  breakfast  with  him,  for 
Marr  habitually  rose  early.  His  working  day 
comprised  some  eighteen  hours,  or  in  other  words, 
all  the  time  he  was  awake.  No  matter  what  he 
was  about,  his  big  brain  never  ceased  its  planning. 

"Well?"  Julian  Marr  said  inquiringly,  as  Far- 
rand  seated  himself  opposite  his  chief. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  purport  of  Marr's 
blunt  interrogation.  Farrand  wished  vainly  that 
the  women  were  there.  Then  he  could  have  en- 
joyed his  meal  in  peace.  But  he  knew  that  Sylvia 
Marr  and  her  guests  would  not  appear  for  an- 
other two  hours. 

"The  young  lady  has  a  mind  of  her  own,"  Far- 
rand began. 

"Then  you  failed?"  said  Marr  quickly. 

97 


98     THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"I  wasn't  going  to  put  it  in  just  that  way," 
Farrand  corrected  him. 

"No  use  beating  about  the  bush!"  Man*  told 
him  gruffly. 

"I've  not  finished  with  her  yet.  I  always  ex- 
pect to  accomplish  whatever  I  attempt,"  Farrand 
explained  as  cheerfully  as  he  could. 

"A  most  laudable  attitude  for  a  young  man!" 
his  mentor  told  him.  But  Farrand  was  not  de- 
ceived by  Marr's  commendation.  There  was  a 
sarcastic  note  in  his  voice  that  Farrand  knew,  and 
dreaded.  "In  the  words  of  the  great  Yankee  gen- 
eral," Marr  continued,  "you  expect  to  win,  if  it 
takes  you  all  summer— eh?" 

"Exactly!"  Farrand  replied  uneasily. 

"Humph!  The  difficulty  this  time  lies  in  the 
fact  that  you  haven't  all  summer  at  your  disposal. 
It's  now  or  never!  .  .  .  I'm  going  to  Mexico 
City  to-day,"  Marr  announced  abruptly.  "And 
I'll  give  you  just  one  more  chance  to  make  good 
on  this  deal.  .  .  .  Don't  disappoint  me !" 

His  bright  eyes  glittered  a  warning  which  was 
the  more  disconcerting  because  it  was  unspoken. 
It  is  always  the  unnamed  danger  that  is  the  most 
feared.  And  in  his  discomfiture  Wade  Farrand 
splashed  coffee  upon  his  fresh,  white  linen  suit  as 


TREASON  99 

he  cringed  under  the  whip  of  Marr's  displeasure. 
He  was  glad  when  Marr  left  the  house — and 
Rio  Chico.  Among  subordinates  Farrand  showed 
a  blustering  front  that  impressed  many  as  a  proof 
of  his  aggressiveness.  But  in  Julian  Marr's  pres- 
ence there  was  nothing  but  humility  in  his  atti- 
tude. When  his  master  commanded,  he  leaped 
to  do  his  bidding.  And  as  certainly  as  he  basked 
in  the  warmth  of  Marr's  approval,  he  fawned 
upon  him  or  cowered  from  him  when  the  great 
man  was  displeased  with  him.  Small  wonder, 
then,  that  he  breathed  more  freely  in  Marr's  ab- 
sence. And  gradually  he  recovered  once  more  the 
slightly  pompous  manner  he  was  wont  to  assume 
when  he  was  the  undisputed  cock  of  the  walk. 

If  any  one  had  told  Farrand  that  before  the  day 
was  done  he  should  play  the  traitor  to  Marr  he 
could  not  have  believed  it.  Treason  against  his, 
master !  He  would  have  scoffed  at  such  a  thought 
.  .  .  Nevertheless,  the  impossible  happened. 
That  very  morning  something  occurred  to  cause 
a  sudden  shift  in  Farrand's  plans.  His  secretary, 
a  native  named  Lopez,  was  the  unknowing  instru- 
ment that  led  to  his  disaffection. 

"Have  you  heard  the  news,  Mr.   Farrand?" 


ioo   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

Lopez  asked  him,  as  he  laid  some  letters  upon 
Farrand's  desk. 

"What  news?"  Farrand  inquired. 

"The  news  of  the  iron !" 

"Iron!"  Farrand  repeated  mechanically,  as  he 
started  to  read  a  letter. 

"Yes — the  iron!"  Lopez  said  once  more. 

"Don't  know  what  you're  talking  about!"  Far- 
rand told  him.  "What  iron?  What  about  it, 
anyhow?" 

"The  country  people  are  much  excited,"  his  sec- 
retary explained.  "Many  of  them  are  buying 
dynamite.  It  will  be  a  wonder  if  half  of  them  do 
not  blow  their  brains  out — the  poor  fools !" 

"Dynamite  for  what?" 

"They  will  blast  holes  in  the  land,  expecting  to 
find  iron.  They  say  the  whole  State  is  full  of  it — 
and  no  one  ever  discovered  it  until  Mr.  Bristow 
came — the  gringo  with  the  big  chin." 

Farrand  wheeled  suddenly  in  his  chair.  The 
paper  that  he  held  fell  unheeded  upon  his  desk. 

"What  the  hell  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded. 

"The  gringo  has  found  an  iron  mine,"  Ricardo 
Lopez  announced.  "And  now  la  gente  have  gone 
mad  over  night.  They  say  old  Jose  Crispo  has 
become  as  rich  as  Senor  Marr  himself." 


TREASON  101 

Questions  fell  sharp  and  fast  from  Farrand's 
lips.  And  having  soon  drained  his  secretary  dry 
of  all  the  information  he  possessed  on  the  sub- 
ject, Farrand  clapped  his  wide-brimmed  Panama 
upon  his  head  and  hurried  over  to  the  cluster  of 
low,  gay-colored  buildings  where  Spanish  mer- 
chants haggled  with  their  customers.  Under  the 
wooden  canopy  that  projected  over  the  sidewalk 
in  front  of  one  of  the  shops,  dignified  by  the  name 
of  La  Gran  Senora — The  Great  Lady — Farrand 
came  upon  the  very  man  to  furnish  him  with  an 
accurate  account  of  the  sensation  that  had  fired 
the  community. 

Colonel  Martinez  was  delighted  to  see 
"Meester"  Farrand.  Better  still,  he  was  ready 
to  tell  Farrand  everything  he  knew.  Between  el 
Coronet  and  the  South  Eastern  Railway  Company 
there  existed  a  bond  cemented  by  the  interchange 
of  certain  favors.  During  the  troublous  time 
of  the  revolutions  the  Colonel  had  more  than 
once  thrown  his  troops  about  some  threatened 
property  of  the  Company — such  as  a  railroad  sta- 
tion or  a  bridge.  Marr  had  been  duly  grateful 
for  such  services.  And  in  one  way  and  another  he 
had  made  Martinez  feel  that  he  was  recompensed. 
For  instance,  the  Colonel  was  permitted  to  sell 


102   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

sugar-cane  to  the  Rio  Chico  mill — a  courtesy  that 
had  been  denied  Jose  Crispo's  cousin,  along  with 
many  of  his  neighbors.  It  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
only  a  favored  few  who  enjoyed  that  opportunity 
of  marketing  a  profitable  crop. 

Yes !  The  Company  was  grateful.  The  Com- 
pany was  kind  to  Colonel  Martinez.  Not  only  did 
it  buy  his  cane.  It  weighed  it  for  him  as  well. 
Perhaps  el  Coronet  would  not  have  been  so  en- 
thusiastic a  friend  of  Senor  Marr's  had  he  known 
that  ten  per  cent,  was  regularly  deducted  from 
the  weight  of  his  cane  shipments.  But  that  was  a 
detail  that  never  came  to  his  attention. 

It  was,  truly,  a  wonderfully  perfect  system  of 
accounting  that  Marr's  experts  had  installed. 

Closeted  in  Farrand's  office,  Colonel  Martinez 
substantially  verified  the  wild  tales  that  the  secre- 
tary, Lopez,  had  related. 

"And  that  land  of  Senor  Marr's "  Farrand 

asked  him.  "Is  it  a  fact,  then,  that  that  carries 
rich  ore  too?" 

"It  is,  of  a  certainty,  true,"  el  Coronet  declared. 
"Have  not  my  own  eyes  beheld  specimens  of  the 
deposit?  Jose  Crispo's  cousin — that  rascal  whose 
river  the  Company  dammed  up — he  has  shown  me 
a  bagful.  Now  that  old  Crispo  finds  himself  rich, 


TREASON  103 

his  relations  are  flocking  about  him  by  the  dozen, 
the  beggars  I"  The  grizzled  old  veteran  laughed. 
And  then  he  said,  growing  serious  again,  "It  is  a 
matter  of  wonder  to  me  that  you  do  not  know  all 
this  before  me,  senor." 

"Oh,  I  knew  all  about  it,"  Farrand  lied  easily. 
"I  merely  wanted  to  learn  what  had  leaked  out." 

"Assuredly!  Senor  Marr  is  too  old  a  fox  to  be 
caught  napping — no?" 

Farrand  nodded  wisely.  He  could  vouch  for 
that  statement  with  a  clear  conscience. 

"His  engineers  have  already  examined  the  prop- 
erty— is  it  not  so?"  Martinez  inquired. 

"You  know  too  much,  my  Colonel!"  Farrand 
laughed.  And  at  the  same  time  he  was  cursing 
himself  for  his  own  stupidity.  He  had  never 
guessed  what  brought  those  mining  men  from  the 
north.  This  was  the  answer!  And  Marr  knew 
all.  .  .  .  Wade  Farrand  flushed  with  annoyance. 
It  was  no  wonder  that  Marr's  fingers  itched  to 
obtain  possession  of  the  whole  tract.  But  Far- 
rand resented  the  fact  that  he  had  been  left  in 
ignorance.  It  made  him  angry  when  he  reflected 
that  his  patron  had  set  him  to  work  in  the  dark 
to  get  Janet's  share  of  the  mine  away  from  her. 
And  by  the  time  he  had  bade  Colonel  Martinez 


io4   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

good-by  he  had  formulated  a  plan  not  strictly  in 
accordance  with  Marr's  instructions. 

It  had  occurred  to  Farrand  that  so  long  as  she 
retained  her  interest  in  Aguacate,  Janet  was  rich. 
And  she  was,  as  yet,  unaware  of  that  circumstance. 
Moreover,  it  was  a  situation  that  appealed 
strongly  to  Farrand.  And  so  interested  did  he 
become  in  its  possibilities  that  his  late  intention  of 
inducing  Janet  to  part  with  her  holdings  vanished 
completely  from  his  mind. 

Jajjet  and  Farrand  had  just  returned  from  the 
tennis  court.  They  had  played  hard.  And  when 
they  reached  the  house  they  found  the  piazza  de- 
serted. Janet  promptly  dropped  into  a  hammock, 
while  Farrand  drew  a  comfortable  chair  close  be- 
side her,  and  sipped  a  highball  and  smoked. 

As  he  looked  at  the  girl  facing  him  he  reflected 
that  he  would  be  a  lucky  man  indeed  if  his  plans 
succeeded.  It  was  not  every  substantial  fortune 
that  could  boast  so  charming  a  mistress. 

"That  was  good  fun — the  tennis!"  Farrand  re- 
marked. "But  this  is  better."  He  leaned  lazily 
back  in  his  chair  and  watched  her  through  the 
smoke  with  frankly  appraising  eyes. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  Janet  asked  innocently. 


TREASON  105 

"I'm  afraid  you  don't  like  to  exert  yourself." 

"Oh,  you  don't  know  me,"  he  countered. 
"Now,  when  I  want  a  thing  badly  enough  you've 
no  idea  how  hard  I'll  work  for  it."  And  he  gave 
her  a  look  that  was  intended  to  express  his  ad- 
miration for  her. 

"I  noticed  that  you  went  to  some  trouble  to 
pull  the  cork  out  of  that  bottle,"  Janet  observed 
wickedly.  She  knew  perfectly  well  what  Farrand 
meant. 

"You  insist  upon  misinterpreting  my  prettiest 
remarks.  .  .  .  It's  quite  apparent  to  me  that  you 
haven't  a  bit  of  confidence  in  me.  You  don't  take 
anything  I  say  as  being  serious." 

"I'm  afraid  you're  piqued  because  I  didn't  ask 
your  advice  about  my  land,"  she  told  him. 

"I  piqued?"  he  exclaimed.  "My  dear  Miss 
Janet — I  couldn't  take  exception  to  anything  you 
might  do." 

She  laughed  at  that. 

"Really,  for  a  man  you  have  remarkable  faith 
in  woman-kind.  I  never  know  myself  what  I'm 
going  to  do  next." 

"Well,  you  haven't  decided  to  sell  your  land  to 
Mr.  Marr,  have  you?"  he  asked. 

Janet  shook  her  head  emphatically. 


io6  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"No!"  she  said.  "That's  one  thing,  at  least, 
that  I'm  sure  about." 

"Bully  for  you !  I  like  to  see  people  true  to 
their  convictions.  I  knew  there  was  no  use  argu- 
ing with  you  on  that  subject.  I  even  wished,  after 
our  talk  last  night,  that  I  had  kept  my  advice  to 
myself.  There's  no  sense  in  butting  into  other 
people's  affairs.  I  hope  you'll  forgive  my  seem- 
ing officiousness.  My  zeal  was  well  meant,  I  as- 
sure you.  You'll  understand  that,  I  hope  ?" 

"Of  course!"  Janet  rejoined.  She  was  relieved 
to  know  that  Farrand  was  reconciled  to  her  stand 
and  that  he  was  not  going  to  renew  their  discus- 
sion. "No  doubt  time  will  prove  my  judgment  to 
be  terribly  bad.  And  then  you  can  say,  'I  told 
you  so !' ' 

"Never!"  he  declared.  "And  I  hope  for  your 
sake  that  things  will  turn  out  to  your  advantage. 
If  they  do,  I'm  sure  Mr.  Marr  will  be  as  pleased 
as  any  of  us." 

"It's  kind  of  you  to  say  that,"  Janet  told  him 
gratefully,  "especially  when  you're  convinced  I'm 
acting  unwisely.  I  suppose  Mr.  Miles  thinks  so 
too.  Probably  he's  worrying  this  very  minute  for 
fear  I'll  make  ducks  and  drakes  out  of  what  little 
money  I  have — now  that  I've  asserted  myself  in 


TREASON  107 

this  business.  On  the  other  hand,  imagine  how 
surprised  he'll  be  if  I  make  an  extra  ten  thousand 
dollars  for  myself!" 

"Here's  hoping  you  will!"  And  Wade  Far- 
rand  drained  his  glass  to  the  toast.  "I  want 
things  to  turn  out  right  for  you.  You  deserve  to 
win,  anyhow,  as  a  reward  for  keeping  your  prom- 
ise to  Bristow.  No  doubt  you  didn't  understand 
how  I  could  suggest  your  ignoring  that  phase  of 
the  affair.  You  see,  men  become  somewhat  callous 
in  such  matters.  I'm  glad,  now,  that  you've  stood 
by  your  guns.  ...  It  only  makes  me  admire  you 
all  the  more." 

So  Farrand  paved  the  way  for  what  developed 
all  at  once  into  a  whirlwind  wooing.  His  vigorous 
courtship  surprised  Janet.  She  had  thought,  pre- 
viously, that  he  was  merely  amusing  himself,  and 
incidentally  entertaining  her.  And  she  had  ac- 
cepted his  attentions  as  a  matter  of  course.  They 
were  the  sort  of  homage  that  she  had  come  to  re- 
gard, in  New  York,  as  due  every  girl.  But  now 
she  could  no  longer  ignore  the  fact  that  Farrand 
was  in  earnest.  And  what  troubled  and  perplexed 
her  now  was  her  uncertainty  as  to  her  own  senti- 
ments towards  him. 

Propinquity  had  not  been  without  its  effect  upon 


108   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

her.  There  was  much  in  Farrand  to  impress  an 
imaginative  girl.  He  was  both  alert  and  forceful, 
and — when  Marr  was  not  at  hand — he  displayed 
the  sort  of  poise  that  goes  with  executive  ability. 
On  the  whole  he  appeared  to  be  leading  a  life 
much  more  worth  while  than  did  the  wealthy 
young  dawdlers  whom  Janet  was  accustomed  to 
meeting  at  home. 

Add  to  such  attributes  a  certain  personal  at- 
tractiveness— for  in  spite  of  Farrand's  undue  con- 
sumption of  highballs,  he  was  still  a  fine  figure  of 
a  man — add  that  and  there  resulted  a  combination 
of  qualities  that  would  have  made  many  a  girl 
hesitate  before  she  told  him  "No!" 

Meanwhile  Farrand  lost  no  opportunity  to  be 
alone  with  Janet.  He  felt  that  there  was  no  time 
to  be  wasted.  Once  she  learned  what  he  already 
knew  about  Aguacate  his  intentions  might  be  open 
to  suspicion.  It  was  essential  that  he  should  com- 
mit himself — and  her — before  that  inevitable 
denouement. 

And  in  the  meantime  he  trusted  implicitly  in 
Marr's  ability  to  block  De  Boer's  railroad  project 
and  so  render  Dick's  option  ineffective. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

FARRAND  CROWDS  HIS  LUCK 

U!T  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  see  Senor  Marr 
himself,"  Cisneros  told  his  caller. 

It  struck  Dick  Bristow  that  Marr's  land  com- 
missioner was  in  a  somewhat  peevish  frame  of 
mind.  Certainly  he  displayed  none  of  the  oily 
urbanity  that  he  had  evinced  on  the  occasion  of 
Dick's  former  visit  to  San  Miguel,  when  he  had 
made  his  tentative  proposal  to  buy  Aguacate. 

Had  Dick  known  to  what  extent  Marr  had  emp- 
tied the  vials  of  his  wrath  upon  the  head  of  the 
luckless  Cisneros  he  would  not  have  wondered  at 
that  gentleman's  change  of  front.  It  is  discon- 
certing, to  say  the  least,  to  win  caustic  criticism 
where  one  has  expected  only  praise.  And  Senor 
Cisneros  was  surfeited  with  gall  and  wormwood. 
He  would  have  liked  to  slip  a  knife  under  the 
gringo's  shoulder-blade,  and  so  avenge  himself 
upon  the  instrument  of  his  unhappiness.  But  that 

109 


no   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

was  too  crude  a  way  for  an  educated  lawyer  of 
pure  Castilian  blood  to  pay  his  debts  of  dis- 
pleasure. He  trusted  to  settle  the  score  in  some 
more  subtle  fashion,  later. 

"I  can  do  nothing  for  you,"  he  returned  in  an- 
swer to  Dick's  persistence. 

"But  I  want  to  buy  that  land,"  Dick  repeated. 
"I  have  the  money,  and  the  option,  too.  I  don't 
see  why  you  object  to  dealing  with  me."  And  he 
showed  the  lawyer  his  contract,  as  well  as  a  check. 

"The  matter  has  passed  out  of  my  hands,"  Cis- 
neros  said.  And  he  spread  his  open  palms  before 
his  caller  in  conclusive  verification  of  his  state- 
ment. 

Dick  perceived  that  he  could  accomplish  nothing 
there.  So  he  left  Senor  Cisneros  with  a  polite 
a  Dios  and  stepped  into  the  narrow  street,  where 
his  coach  waited  for  him.  And  then  he  bumped 
away  over  the  uneven  cobblestones,  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  the  driver's  bell,  which  clanged  a 
warning  to  unwary  pedestrians.  His  next  step  was 
to  make  a  short  call  upon  his  friend  Macdonald 
at  the  Territorial  Bank. 

Back  to  the  hotel  he  went,  then.  There  was 
nothing  for  him  to  do  but  stay  there  until  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  for  the  afternoon  train  for  Rio 


FARRAND  CROWDS  HIS  LUCK    nt 

Chico  had  left  a  good  hour  earlier.  Dick  alighted, 
dismissed  his  cochero,  and  went  inside  the  Hotel 
Inglaterra.  He  wondered  if  some  German  had 
not  christened  the  hostelry.  No  one  else,  he 
thought,  could  have  cast  such  a  slur  upon  the 
British. 

Picking  his  steps  with  care,  he  made  his  way 
along  the  littered  pavement  of  the  open  corridor 
that  encircled  the  courtyard.  Once  inside  his  box- 
stall  of  a  room  he  cast  coat  and  hat  aside;  and 
pulling  out  pipe  and  tobacco,  he  stretched  himself 
gingerly  upon  the  rickety  bed,  for  the  three-fold 
purpose  of  resting,  smoking,  and  composing  his 
mind. 

He  had  not  liked  the  land  commissioner's  atti- 
tude. He  wondered  whether  Marr  had  not  in- 
structed Cisneros  to  turn  a  cold  shoulder  to  him. 
Dick  knew  that  news  of  the  iron  discovery  had  be- 
gun to  leak  out.  If  Marr  had  learned  the  secret 
he  did  not  doubt  that  that  wily  financier  would 
prove  as  slippery  as  an  eel.  Pinning  him  to  the 
terms  of  the  option  might  prove  a  difficult  and 
lengthy  task. 

It  was  delightfully  cool  inside  the  hotel,  for  the 
heat  could  not  penetrate  its  thick  walls.  Dick  had 
been  traveling  since  daybreak;  and  he  soon  grew 


H2   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

drowsy.    And  he  had  not  lain  long  upon  the  de- 
crepit bed  before  he  was  sound  asleep. 

It  was  night  when  Dick  awoke.  For  a  few 
minutes  he  lay  still,  not  yet  fully  aroused  to  his 
senses.  Subdued  voices  were  speaking  Spanish  in 
the  room  next  his.  And  over  the  low  partition, 
which  stopped  less  than  halfway  to  the  raftered 
roof,  for  the  better  circulation  of  air,  a  soft  glow 
of  lamp-light  lit  his  own  room  dimly. 

As  soon  as  he  realized  where  he  was  he  sprang 
up  and  lighted  an  evil-smelling  lamp  which  stood 
upon  a  small  table.  Looking  at  his  watch  he  saw 
that  it  was  nearly  eight  o'clock.  He  had  slept 
almost  four  hours. 

In  the  large,  blue-painted  room  which  faced  the 
street  through  high-arched  doors  and  served  alike 
as  office,  dining-room  and  lounge,  Dick  found  a 
few  belated  travelers  still  dining.  The  proprietor 
of  the  Inglaterra,  a  small,  animated  native  with  a 
black  mustache  several  sizes  too  large  for  him, 
started  with  surprise  when  he  saw  his  American 
guest  emerge  from  the  darkness  of  the  patio. 

"I  thought  you  had  not  returned  1"  he  exclaimed. 

"I  fell  asleep,"  Dick  told  him.  "Nearly  missed 
my  dinner,  too!" 


FARRAND  CROWDS  HIS  LUCK    113 

His  host  pulled  out  a  chair  for  him  with  a 
flourish.  And  soon  Dick  set  about  satisfying  the 
inner  man.  His  waiter  was  an  engaging  chap.  He 
both  smoked  and  sang  as  he  served  his  employer's 
patrons.  One  could  easily  forgive  so  cheerful  a 
servitor  if  his  attendance  lacked  some  of  the  nice- 
ties which  fastidious  persons  consider  essential  to 
a  good  meal.  One  could  even  overlook  the  greasi- 
ness  of  the  cocinero's  cooking,  when  introduced  to 
it  by  that  fascinating,  light-hearted  go-between. 

Then  followed  a  couple  of  hours  of  time  kill- 
ing. Lacking  other  diversion,  Dick  went  for  a 
stroll  through  the  quaint  town.  After  an  aimless 
ramble  he  found  himself  at  last  in  an  out-of-the- 
way  plaza,  where  he  sat  down  upon  a  bench  under 
the  stars  and  smoked.  Far  below  him  the  waters 
of  the  harbor  shimmered  in  the  moonlight.  And 
the  weird  wail  of  some  would-be  merrymakers, 
singing  in  unison  after  the  Mexican  fashion,  pro- 
vided incidental  music  for  the  tableau. 

When  the  discordant  bell  in  the  church-tower 
nearby  sounded  ten  o'clock  Dick  quitted  his  bench 
and  walked  down  the  hill  to  the  Hotel  Inglaterra. 
There  he  found  a  gay  party  playing  cards  upon 
the  table  at  which  he  had  lately  dined.  But  their 


noisy  chatter,   which  resounded  throughout  the 
house,  did  not  long  keep  him  awake. 

The  next  time  Mr.  Bristow  awoke  in  the  Hotel 
Inglaterra  it  was  with  the  uncomfortable  convic- 
tion that  he  was  not  the  sole  occupant  of  his  bed. 
He  had,  in  fact,  excellent  reasons  for  believing  it 
to  be  tenanted  by  multitudinous  fleas — and  worse. 
And  to  add  to  the  unpleasantness  of  the  situation, 
a  pair  of  lusty  roosters  in  the  courtyard  outside 
his  window  vied  with  each  other  in  tearing  the 
night  silence  into  tatters.  Though  it  was  only 
two  o'clock,  it  required  but  a  short  attempt  to 
convince  Dick  that  further  sleep,  in  that  place,  was 
impossible. 

So  he  dressed  noiselessly.  And  then  he  tiptoed 
through  the  deserted  hotel,  unbarred  one  of  the 
great  doors,  and  let  himself  into  the  street.  The 
air  outside,  though  cool,  was  surprisingly  free 
from  that  penetrating  chill  that  usually  attends  the 
tropic  night.  And  it  occurred  to  Dick  that  it  would 
be  a  pleasant  thing  to  do  to  walk  down  to  the 
harbor,  where  he  could  get  closer  to  that  tang  of 
salt  that  was  in  his  nostrils. 

The  rest  of  the  night  he  spent  stretched  upon 
the  plank  flooring  of  the  pier.  The  water  lapping 


FARRAND  CROWDS  HIS  LUCK    115 

against  the  piles  was  as  restful  music  in  his  ears. 
And  the  sunrise  which  at  last  lit  the  world  again 
with  its  red-gold  radiance  made  him  glad  that 
he  had  forsaken  the  wretched  inn.  He  lingered 
for  a  time,  to  watch  the  pelicans  as  they  snatched 
their  breakfast  out  of  the  harbor.  It  was  fas- 
cinating to  see  them  drop  like  plummets  upon  the 
water,  disappear  with  a  terrific  splash — the  noise 
of  which  might  be  heard  a  half-mile  away — and 
then  rise  with  the  inevitable  fish  in  their  bills. 
Watching  those  early  breakfasters  soon  made 
Dick  feel  hungry  himself.  So  he  went  back  to  the 
Inglaterra  then,  in  the  hope  of  finding  the  cook 
astir. 

The  first  thing  that  he  encountered  when  he 
revisited  his  room  was  the  contents  of  his  big 
saddle-bags  dumped  upon  the  floor.  Some  one 
had  invaded  his  quarters  during  his  absence  and 
made  free  with  his  belongings. 

A  quick  inventory  assured  him  that  nothing  had 
been  stolen.  There  was,  in  truth,  little  of  value  to 
interest  a  thief;  and  it  was  evident  that  the  ma- 
rauder had  been  disappointed. 

The  proprietor  of  the  Hotel  Inglaterra  dis- 
played much  incredulity  when  Dick  reported  the 
incident  to  him.  It  was  impossible,  he  declared. 


1 1 6   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

No  such  outrage  had  ever  occurred  in  his  virtuous 
establishment.  The  senor  must  have  stumbled 
over  the  bags  in  the  dark,  himself. 

"Who  had  the  rooms  on  either  side  of  mine?" 
Dick  asked  him.  "The  lock  was  not  forced. 
Some  one  must  have  climbed  over  the  partition." 

The  little  man  asserted  that  the  neighboring 
rooms  had  not  been  tenanted  all-night. 

"There  were  people  talking  in  one  of  them,  just 
before  I  had  my  dinner  last  night,"  Dick  told  him. 

"Ah!  That  is  true.  It  was  the  judge  of  the 
district,  who  retired  there  for  a  private  conversa- 
tion with  his  clerk.  They  left  on  horseback  as 
soon  as  the  moon  rose.  .  .  .  No!  It  is  not  pos- 
sible, senor.  I  am  an  honest  man.  This" — and  he 
beat  upon  his  puny  chest  with  his  two  fists — "this 
is  a  hotel  of  the  most  excellent  reputation." 

"All  right!"  said  Dick.  "But  if  I'd  happened 
to  come  in  and  surprise  my  caller  I'm  afraid  that 
excellent  reputation  might  have  been  smirched  by 
a  murder.  .  .  .  I'm  glad  I  didn't  catch  the  rascal, 
however.  There's  no  harm  done.  And  I'm  not 
crazy  to  shoot  anybody." 

By  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Dick  dropped 
off  the  train  at  Rio  Chico.  Not  finding  Farrand 


FARRAND  CROWDS  HIS  LUCK    117 

in  his  office,  he  sought  him  at  his  house,  for  Dick 
was  anxious  to  learn  Julian  Marr's  whereabouts. 

Farrand's  man-servant  admitted  the  caller,  ask- 
ing him  to  wait  upstairs  in  the  library. 

"I  do  not  know  where  Meester  ees,"  the  man 
said.  "But  I  es-search  for  heem." 

Dick  strolled  into  the  library,  to  find  it  empty. 
He  had  hardly  seated  himself  before  he  heard 
voices  from  some  quarter.  At  first  he  was  not 
quite  sure  where  they  came  from.  But  soon  it  was 
evident  that  people  were  upon  the  upper  balcony, 
which  encompassed  the  whole  house,  and  that  they 
were  just  out  of  range  of  the  open  windows  of  the 
room. 

As  he  sat  there,  Dick  could  distinguish  the  rum- 
ble of  Farrand's  bass,  and  now  and  then  the  lighter 
tones  of  a  woman,  whom  he  took  to  be  Miss 
Ashley.  He  had  waited  but  a  few  minutes  when 
Farrand's  servant  reappeared  in  the  doorway  and 
held  up  a  supplicating  hand. 

"Un  momenta — one  moment!"  he,  entreated; 
then  vanished  to  regions  below. 

Dick  waited  patiently.  He  did  not  know  that 
as  soon  as  the  man  had  approached  his  master 
Farrand  had  sent  him  away  with  a  peremptory 
wave  of  the  hand,  before  the  fellow  could  tell 


n8   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

him  of  his  caller.  Felipe — that  was  the  servant's 
name — Felipe  knew  better  than  to  interrupt  his 
master  after  that  impatient  gesture. 

As  the  voices  droned  on,  Dick's  ears  gradually 
became  adjusted  to  their  subdued  pitch.  And 
soon  he  began  to  feel  decidedly  ill  at  ease.  It  was 
clear  that  he  had  become  an  unintentional  eaves- 
dropper to  a  conversation  of  the  utmost  intimacy 
— to  a  proposal  of  marriage,  to  be  exact. 

As  Farrand's  declaration  increased  in  fervor, 
his  words — and  the  girl's  too — became,  if  not 
louder,  at  least  crisper  and  more  distinct. 

"Surely  you  must  have  guessed  all  this  long 
ago,"  Farrand  was  saying. 

"You're  mistaken,"  Dick  heard  Janet  object. 
"I  never  dreamed,  until  a  few  days  ago,  that  you 
thought  of  me  in  such  a  way." 

"I  can't  help  that,"  Farrand  replied.  "The 
fact  remains  that  I  love  you.  I  tell  you,  I  can't 
exist  without  you.  This  God-forsaken  hole  has 
been  heaven  since  you  came.  And  before,  it  was 
just  a  place  in  which  to  work  and  eat  and  sleep. 
I  was  not  unhappy,  because  I  never  knew  what  I 
was  missing.  But  after  you're  gone  it  will  be — 
yes,  a  hell  of  loneliness." 

"You'd  soon  forget  me,"  she  told  him. 


FARRAND  CROWDS  HIS  LUCK    119 

"Never!"  he  declared.  "Even  if  I  wanted  to, 
I  could  never  get  the  music  of  your  voice  out  of 
my  ears.  I'd  feel  the  witchery  of  your  eyes  upon 
me  always.  All  your  little,  pretty  mannerisms 
that  have  become  dear  to  me,  the  look  of  you  when 
you're  on  a  horse,  with  the  glow  upon  your  cheeks 
and  your  hair  blown  back  from  your  temples — 
oh !  there  are  a  thousand  ways  I'll  remember  you  1" 

"Really,  Mr.  Farrand,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  say 
these  things  to  me,"  Janet  protested  "I — I  don't 
think  you've  a  right  to." 

"Right  I"  he  cried.  "My  dear,  I've  every  right 
in  the  world,  I  should  think.  It  is  too  late  for 
you  to  say  that.  You  should  have  let  me  know 
before,  if  my  attentions  have  been  distasteful  to 
you." 

"Surely  you  don't  think  I  encouraged  you?"  she 
asked  quickly. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  not,"  he  answered.  "But  you 
were  willing  to  spend  as  much  time  with  me  as  I 
could  spare  from  my  work.  Tell  me — do  all  those 
happy  hours  mean  nothing  to  you?  Or  were  you 
merely  amusing  yourself — passing  the  time  away 
with  me  for  want  of  some  better  companion?  .  .  . 
No!  I'll  not  believe  that!  There's  something 
else — something  you  don't  want  to  tell  me.  Don't 


120   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

spare  my  feelings,  please !  I  want  the  truth.  I'll 
try  to  bear  it,  no  matter  what  it  may  be.  ... 
Truth's  the  best  thing  in  the  world,  after  you." 

Uncomfortable  as  he  was,  Dick  could  not  re- 
press a  smile  as  he  heard  Farrand's  impassioned 
panegyric  on  truth.  If  he  knew  anything  of  men, 
Wade  Farrand  was  a  slippery  customer.  No  man 
could  serve  Julian  Marr  satisfactorily  and  remain 
a  little  tin  saint. 

"Surely  you'll  hold  out  some  hope  for  me," 
Farrand  continued.  "Tell  me  that  I  have  a 
chance.  There's  no  one  else,  is  there?" 

"No !"  she  admitted.    "There's  no  one  else." 

"Ah!  Then  I  shall  win  you!"  he  exclaimed. 
"I  would  win  you  anyhow.  And  I  must  have  my 
answer  soon.  Don't  keep  me  waiting  long!  It 
will  seem  eternity  to  me,  while  I'm  hoping." 

There  was  a  brief  interval  of  silence.  And 
then  Janet's  voice  exclaimed,  with  a  note  of 
dismay : 

"Please,  Mr.  Farrand!    Oh,  please!" 

The  board  floor  of  the  gallery  gave  forth  a 
noise  as  of  some  one  rising  hurriedly.  And  Dick 
heard  Farrand  laugh. 

"Damn !"  said  Mr.  Bristow  to  himself.  "This  is 
too  much  for  me."  He  was  sorry,  on  Miss  Ash- 


FARRAND  CROWDS  HIS  LUCK    121 

ley's  account,  that  he  had  heard  what  he  had.  It 
was  evident  that  both  she  and  Farrand  had  been 
too  engrossed  to  heed  the  fact  that  their  voices 
must  penetrate  inside  the  library  where  he  was 
waiting. 

Dick  made  his  way  downstairs  forthwith.  He 
wished  that  he  had  left  the  library  before. 

In  the  lower  hall  he  met  Felipe. 

"See  here  1"  he  said,  as  a  sudden  suspicion 
dawned  upon  him.  "Did  you  tell  Mr.  Farrand  I 
wanted  to  see  him?" 

"Again  I  go,",  said  Felipe  nervously,  starting 
for  the  stairs. 

"Yes — so  I  observe.  But  does  Mr.  Farrand 
know  I'm  waiting?" 

"He  vairy  busy,"  Felipe  murmured.  "I  tell 
heem  one  time  more,  so  to  don't  forget." 

Dick  knew  that  he  had  guessed  the  truth.  The 
beggar  had  never  told  Farrand  at  all. 

Presently  Wade  Farrand  descended.  Dick 
thought  that  he  appeared  even  more  pleased  with 
himself  than  ever. 

"Hello!    What's  up?"  Farrand  inquired. 

"I  came  to  find  out  where  Mr.  Marr  is,"  Dick 
informed  him. 

"You  want  to  see  him?" 


122  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"Yes!"  said  Dick,  though  he  considered  that  to 
be  none  of  Farrand's  business. 

"He  isn't  here,"  Farrand  said.  "He's  in  Mex- 
ico City." 

"When  is  he  coming  back?" 

"In  a  day — a  week — a  month,"  was  the  enig- 
matic answer.  "I  never  know."  And  Wade  Far- 
rand  gave  him  a  smile  of  superiority.  "What  do 
you  want  to  see  him  about?  Anything  I  can  do 
for  you?" 

"Thank  you,  no!"  said  Dick,  ignoring  the  first 
question. 

"Sorry  I  can't  help  you  out!"  Farrand  assured 
him.  "I'd  ask  you  to  bunk  here,  until  Mr.  Marr 
returns;  but  I've  only  one  extra  room  now,  and 
his  things  are  in  there — and  he's  just  as  likely  to 
arrive  to-night  as  any  other  time." 

"Oh,  I'll  find  a  place  over  in  the  pueblo  where 
I  can  stretch  a  hammock,  at  least,"  Dick  an- 
swered. 

"Come  in  a  minute !"  Farrand  led  the  way  into 
his  sitting-room,  where,  to  Dick's  surprise,  he  pro- 
duced a  box  of  cigars.  "You  want  to  talk  with 
Mr.  Marr  about  buying  that  land,  I  know,"  he 
announced. 

"Well?"  Dick  queried. 


FARRAND  CROWDS  HIS  LUCK    123 

r 

"Forget  it!"  Farrand  advised  him. 

"Why?" 

"For  the  best  of  reasons,"  Farrand  said.  "I 
tell  you  this  as  a  friend.  An  outsider — and  by 
that  I  mean  any  one  not  connected  with  this  Com- 
pany— an  outsider  cannot  be  successful  in  any 
large  undertaking  in  this  part  of  Mexico." 

"That's  interesting,"  Dick  remarked.  "On  what 
do  you  base  your  assertion,  if  I  may  ask?" 

"Why — the  reason's  self-evident,  I  should  sup- 
pose. This  organization  is  too  powerful  to  be 
fought  successfully." 

"But  I'm  not  fighting  anybody,"  Dick  rejoined 
innocently. 

"You're  antagonizing  Mr.  Marr's  plans,"  Far- 
rand said  bluntly. 

Dick  smiled. 

"What  should  I  know  about  his  plans?"  he 
asked.  "I'm  going  ahead  about  my  own  business. 
If  Marr  sees  fit  to  antagonize  me,  that's  not  my 
fault." 

Farrand  shook  his  head. 

"Be  reasonable,  now!"  he  urged.  "Take  a  bit 
of  friendly  advice  and  you  won't  be  the  loser. 
Now,  this  is  confidential,  you  understand.  .  .  . 
I'm  not  acting  for  anybody  else.  I'm  just  giving 


124  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

you  a  disinterested  tip.  .  .  .  What  sense  is  there 
in  butting  your  head  against  a  stone  wall  ?  I  know 
what  your  game  is.  And  just  as  sure  as  shooting 
you're  due  for  a  cropper.  Why  not  play  safe? 
Why  not  come  over  to  Mr.  Marr's  camp?" 

Dick  laughed  outright  at  that. 

"Marr  and  I  would  get  on  together  for  about 
six  minutes,"  he  said.  "But  just  what  do  you 
mean,  anyhow?" 

"I  mean  that  if  you're  wise  you'll  drop  that 
railroad  dream  of  yours,"  Farrand  explained. 
"There's  no  use  of  my  mincing  matters.  Every- 
body knows  what  you're  up  to.  Forget  that;  and 
pool  your  interests  with  Mr.  Marr's." 

"What  is  Marr's  interest?  I  don't  believe  I 
get  you." 

"Why — you  both  own  mining  property " 

Farrand  began. 

"But  he  has  contracted  to  sell  his  to  me,"  Dick 
objected. 

"What  good  would  that  do  you,  with  no  rail- 
road? You  can't  ship  iron  by  airship." 

"That  railroad  is  going  to  be  built,"  Dick  said 
with  emphasis. 

"So  you  think!"  Farrand  smiled.  "Do  you 
know  how  many  similar  attempts  have  failed?  .  .  . 


FARRAND  CROWDS  HIS  LUCK    125, 

Three,  to  my  knowledge,  in  the  last  half-dozen 
years!" 

"I'm  much  obliged  for  your  advice,"  Dick  told 
him.  "But  I  haven't  the  slightest  intention  of 
changing  my  plans.  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that 
I'm  "prepared  to  buy  Aguacate  now.  That's  why 
I  want  to  see  Mr.  Marr." 

"You'll  be  tossing  away  your  money,"  Farrand 
declared.  "Come !  I  hate  to  see  a  young  chap  like 
you  make  a  mess  of  things,  when  it  would  be  so 
easy  to  get  in  right." 

"My  dear  fellow,"  Dick  replied,  "you  and  I 
might  argue  this  thing  all  night  and  we'd  end  just 
where  we  started."  He  had  risen  to  go,  when  the 
incomparable  servant  Felipe  entered  with  a  tele- 
gram. Farrand  glanced  at  the  message. 

"Don't  be  hasty,"  he  pleaded,  stuffing  the  paper 
into  his  pocket.  "Think  over  what  I've  said.  .  .  . 
You  say  you  have  the  option  with  you?" 

"I've  the  option,  all  right,"  Dick  said. 

"Well,  see  him  if  you  must.  But  don't  be  in 
too  big  a  hurry  to  close  your  deal.  I  wouldn't  talk 
this  way  to  everybody,  Bristow.  But  I've  taken  a 
liking  to  you  and  I  want  to  see  you  successful." 

"You're  very  kind,  I'm  sure,"  Dick  said  drily. 
And  with  that  he  departed.  He  was  amused  by 


126   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

Wade  Farrand's  protestations  of  friendship.  And 
his  sudden  solicitude  regarding  his  affairs  Dick 
accepted  for  just  as  much  as  it  was  worth — and 
no  more.  The  suggestion  that  Dick  should  join 
forces  with  Marr  struck  Mr.  Bristow  as  being 
particularly  humorous.  He  had  no  intention  of 
playing  the  canary  to  Marr's  cat. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  TRAP 

NOT  long  after  Farrand's  caller  had  left  the  house 
a  stable-boy  brought  three  horses  to  the  gate.  And 
soon  Sylvia  Marr  and  her  guest  came  out,  with 
Wade  Farrand,  mounted  and  rode  away  in  the 
direction  of  the  squat  village.  There  they  dis- 
covered Mr.  Bristow,  seated  at  a  round  table  in  a 
cafe  known  as  El  Iris. 

"We  want  you  to  come  for  a  ride  with  us," 
Farrand  called  from  the  street,  while  his  two 
companions  bowed  and  smiled  at  Dick. 

Dick  was  inclined  to  suspect  that  Farrand 
wanted  him  as  an  attendant  for  Sylvia,  so  that  he 
might  ride  with  Janet  himself.  But  Dick  did  not 
mind  that. 

It  was  only  a  stone's  throw  to  the  shed  where 
his  horse  was  stabled.  And  in  a  few  minutes  they 
were  clattering  through  the  narrow  streets,  on 
their  way  toward  open  country. 

127 


128    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

Dick's  surmise  proved  correct.  Farrand  de- 
voted himself  assiduously  to  Miss  Ashley.  And  so 
pleased  was  he  with  his  little  ruse  that  he  extended 
his  invitation  to  include  dinner  as  well. 

"Do  come!"  Julian  Marr's  daughter  urged 
Dick,  when  Farrand  was  out  of  earshot.  "Mr. 
Farrand  has  eyes  only  for  Janet  these  days.  Come 
and  rescue  her — for  an  evening,  at  least." 

"Affairs  of  the  heart  are  out  of  my  line,"  Mr. 
Bristow  said. 

"Well — come  and  keep  me  company,  then,"  she 
said. 

Dick  agreed  to  that.  And  when  they  all  dis- 
mounted in  front  of  Farrand's  house,  at  the  end 
of  their  ride,  he  let  Farrand  send  his  horse  to  the 
Company's  stable,  along  with  the  others.  That 
was  more  convenient  than  returning  him  to  the 
shed  in  the  village. 

The  following  day  Dick  learned  from  Wade 
Farrand  that  Marr  was  expected  to  reach  Rio 
Chico  during  the  afternoon.  So  he  waited. 

He  grew  impatient,  at  last,  as  the  day  wore  on 
and  no  Marr  appeared.  It  was  almost  four 
o'clock  when  Farrand  sent  a  boy  to  find  him  and 
bring  him  to  the  Company's  office. 


THE  TRAP  129 

"I'm  sorry,"  Farrand  said,  as  Dick  entered  his 
private  office,  "I'm  sorry — but  I've  just  had  word 
from  Mr.  Marr  saying  that  he's  not  coming  to- 
day, after  all.  And  that  leaves  you  more  in  the 
dark  than  ever,  for  he  hasn't  told  me  when  he 
does  expect  to  arrive."  Farrand  handed  Dick  a 
telegram  that  confirmed  the  news.  "Oh!  here's 
a  note  for  you !  I  almost  forgot  it,"  he  added,  as 
he  gave  Dick  a  folded  scrap  of  paper  which  had 
been  lying  on  his  desk.  "A  peon  rode  up  here 
with  it  a  little  while  ago." 

Dick  glanced  at  the  scrawl. 

"Jose  Crispo  desires  you  to  return  to  his  house 
as  soon  as  possible,"  he  read. 

"Well!"  Dick  said.  "There's  not  much  use  in 
my  waiting  around  here  indefinitely.  I  see  I'm 
wanted  at  home,  too.  So  I'll  be  on  my  way.  .  .  . 
I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Farrand,  anyhow." 

Dick  left  the  office  then  and  made  for  the  Com- 
pany's stable,  where  his  horse  had  waited  for  him 
since  the  previous  evening.  He  walked  along  at  a 
brisk  pace — for  that  climate — for  the  stable  was  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away  and  there  was  no  time  to 
lose.  He  knew  that  he  would  have  to  send  his 
horse  along  at  a  good  clip  in  order  to  reach 


130   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

Crispo's  house  by  nightfall.  But  his  mount  was 
fresh  and  he  anticipated  no  delay. 

As  the  stable-man  led  his  horse  out  of  his 
stall,  to  be  saddled,  Dick  noticed  at  once  that  the 
animal  limped  badly.  He  quickly  discovered  that 
a  front  shoe  had  been  torn  half  off  and  that  it 
was  bent  out  of  shape  in  such  a  fashion  as  to 
make  it  difficult  for  the  willing  brute  to  walk  at 
all. 

"He  must  have  cast  himself  in  the  night,"  Dick 
remarked.  Evidently  a  hind  foot  had  caught  one 
of  the  projecting  tips  of  the  shoe  and  when  the 
brute  struggled  he  had  ripped  and  twisted  it  into 
its  present  shape.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but 
take  the  shoe  off,  straighten  it,  and  nail  it  in 
place  again. 

To  Dick's  annoyance  the  Company's  blacksmith 
shop  was  closed,  and  no  one  seemed  to  know 
where  the  smith  had  gone.  Since  there  was  no 
other  smithy  in  Rio  Chico  Dick  had  to  spend 
a  half  hour  in  locating  the  missing  horse-shoer. 
Then  there  was  the  forge  fire  to  be  started  before 
he  could  work  the  twisted  shoe  into  shape  again. 

Thanks  to  this  series  of  delays  Dick  left  Rio 
Chico  a  good  hour  and  a  half  later  than  he  had 
intended  when  he  bade  Farrand  good-by.  He 


THE  TRAP  131 

was  sure  that  it  would  be  dark  long  before  he 
reached  the  end  of  his  journey;  but  he  had  ridden 
over  the  trail  many  times,  and  the  moon  would 
have  risen  by  nine  o'clock.  If  necessary  he  could 
wait  for  a  time  at  the  house  of  some  native  until 
the  pall  of  the  early  darkness  should  have  lifted. 

For  two  hours  Dick  pushed  on.  He  had  not 
eaten  since  midday,  for  he  had  left  Rio  Chico  too 
hurriedly  to  pause  for  so  much  as  a  mouthful 
of  supper.  When  he  felt  hungry  he  pulled  his 
belt  a  notch  tighter  and  lighted  another  cigarette. 

Around  eight  o'clock  he  drew  rein  at  a  shack 
not  far  removed  from  the  road.  It  had  grown 
so  dark  that  he  dared  not  trust  his  knowledge 
of  the  trail  any  longer. 

There  was  a  blackened  coffee  pot  simmering 
over  the  charcoal  fire  inside  the  hut.  And  Dick 
drank  of  the  muddy  mixture  while  the  women-folk 
bestirred  themselves  to  prepare  food  for  him. 

"Some  people  passed  here  an  hour  ago,"  the 
head  of  the  family  told  Dick.  "Two  men  rode 
up  and  inquired  the  way  to  Jose  Crispo's  house. 
It  is  possible  that  they  are  friends  of  yours?" 

"Mexicans?"  Dick  queried. 

"Si!  Both  Mexicans!  And  my  woman  said 
that  there  were  three  others  who  waited  in  the 


132   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

camino — the  road.  I  did  not  see  those  others, 
myself.  My  eyes  are  not  as  sharp  as  they  were 
when  I  fought  under  Don  Porfirio." 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea  who  they  were,"  Dick 
said.  "Fellows  looking  for  work,  most  likely  I 
They  seem  to  think  over  in  Rio  Chico  that  we 
must  have  jobs  for  the  whole  world — Jose  Crispo 
and  I !  But  operations  have  hardly  begun  yet.'* 

While  Dick  talked  with  his  host  and  ate  the 
frijoles  and  jerked  beef  which  the  slatternly 
women  had  stewed  for  him,  the  moon  came  up. 
And  by  the  time  he  had  finished  his  meal  he  was 
ready  to  start  on  again. 

Dick  politely  declined  an  urgent  invitation  to 
spend  the  night.  He  wanted  to  get  back  to  Jose 
Crispo's  house.  That  mysterious  message  filled 
him,  if  not  with  uneasiness,  at  least  with  curiosity. 
He  did  not  think  that  Jose  Crispo  would  have 
sent  a  messenger  all  that  distance  for  any  trifling 
reason.  Possibly  there  was  trouble  ahead  of  him. 
But  he  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  think  of  any- 
thing that  could  have  happened,  unless  Don  Jose 
should  have  been  taken  ill,  perhaps.  But  the  old 
fellow  was  tough  as  nails.  That  did  not  seem  a 
likely  contingency. 

As  he  turned  his  horse  into  the  main  trail  from 


THE  TRAP  133 

the  bypath  which  led  from  the  hut  among  the 
palms  he  wondered,  for  a  moment,  whether  the 
strangers  who  had  preceded  him  might  be  con- 
cerned in  any  way  with  Jose  Crispo's  note.  But 
there  was  nothing  on  which  to  base  such  a  sup- 
position. And  Dick  promptly  dismissed  those 
night-riders  from  his  mind. 

The  trail  wound  its  way  through  a  wilderness 
of  savannah.  But  occasionally  it  cut  across  a 
narrow  neck  of  bush.  In  those  dark  aisles,  where 
the  moon's  rays  only  faintly  penetrated,  Dick 
had  to  guard  carefully  against  the  low-hanging 
vines  and  sharp-thorned  briers  with  which  the 
rebellious  forest  strives  to  protect  itself  against 
man's  encroachment.  At  such  times  he  let  his 
horse  pick  the  path,  for  he  could  not  see  it  him- 
self. 

It  was  when  he  was  emerging  from  one  of 
those  half-choked  lanes  that  his  horse  suddenly 
stumbled.  Had  he  been  moving  faster  than  the 
flat-footed  walk  to  which  Dick  had  held  him  he 
must  certainly  have  fallen.  As  it  was,  Dick  had 
difficulty  in  keeping  him  on  his  feet. 

The  sudden  pitch  had  almost  unseated  Dick. 
He  had  grown  to  trust  that  dun  pony,  which  had 
proved  himself  to  be  unusually  sure-footed.  But 


i34   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

now  he  floundered  for  a  moment  as  if  in  serious 
trouble,  coming  at  last  to  a  dead  halt. 

Dick  looked  down,  but  he  could  see  nothing. 
He  wondered  whether  that  blacksmith  had  not  set 
the  shoe  badly.  And  he  was  just  about  to  slip 
out  of  the  saddle  to  investigate  when  a  faint  swish 
caught  his  ear.  The  next  instant  something 
flopped  against  the  back  of  his  neck  and  knocked 
off  his  hat.  And  before  he  could  guess  what  had 
happened  he  felt  his  arms  pulled  tight  against 
his  sides  and  a  tremendous  jerk  dragged  him 
bodily  from  his  seat  and  flung  him  headlong  upon 
the  ground. 


CHAPTER  X 

CROSS    CURRENTS 

JULIAN  MARR  had  returned  to  Rio  Chico  in  a 
most  vicious  humor.  The  help  he  had  so  con- 
fidently expected  from  Washington  had  failed 
him.  What  the  situation  required  was  a  force- 
ful, uncompromising  note,  backed  up  by  the  op- 
portune presence  of  a  battleship  off  Vera  Cruz. 
He  knew  enough  of  the  native  temperament  to 
be  convinced  that  an  argument  of  that  sort  was 
all  that  was  necessary  to  bring  the  de  facto  ad- 
ministration to  its  senses.  But  the  mild  protest 
of  the  United  States  Government  did  no  good  at 
all.  Indeed,  the  timid  diplomacy  of  the  Yankees 
only  served  to  arouse  contempt.  Conscious  of 
Uncle  Sam's  notoriously  weak  foreign  policy, 
Carranza  seized  the  opportunity  to  defy  Wash- 
ington. Mexico's  concessions  were  its  own,  to  be 
granted  to  whomsoever  Mexico's  proud  statesmen 
should  deem  fit.  Amid  enthusiastic  applause  an 

135 


136   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

impassioned  orator  in  the  capital  launched  a  bitter 
attack  upon  "Yankee  meddlers,"  while  the  Car- 
ranzista  newspapers,  emboldened  by  the  trend  of 
public  sentiment,  fed  their  readers  daily  with 
scurrilous  tirades  against  Yankeedom.  And 
through  it  all,  Washington  gave  no  sign  that  it 
heard.  .  .  .  Perhaps  it  was  too  proud  to  hear. 

Under  the  circumstances  it  was  no  wonder  that 
Julian  Marr  was  enraged.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  almost,  luck  seemed  to  be  breaking 
against  him.  And  Marr  was  not  one  to  brook  de- 
feat calmly.  Opposition  only  stirred  him  to 
greater  effort.  He  was  furious  to  think  that  he 
had  trusted  so  much  to  his  Washington  ally. 
But  at  dhMHHI  t"lie  he  felt  a  certain  fierce  satis- 
faction 1ft  fflMMlfcB  *nat  he  must  fight  alone. 

As  soon  as  fie  realized  the  trend  of  events  he 
bestirred  himself  to  take  matters  into  his  own 
hands.  Appreciating  the  necessity  for  quick  ac- 
tion, he  at  once  set  off  the  first  guns  of  the  im- 
pending conflict,  in  the  shape  of  two  telegrams 
couched  in  cipher.  One  of  these  was  addressed 
to  his  land  commissioner,  Cisneros,  and  the  other 
to  Wade  Farrand. 

Seated  in  Farrand's  sitting-room,  with  a  bottle 


CROSS  CURRENTS  137 

of  Scotch  within  easy  reach,  and  the  gay  chatter  of 
his  daughter  and  her  friend  Miss  Ashley  to  divert 
him,  Julian  Marr  had  contrived  to  attain  a  some- 
what more  agreeable  state  of  mind.  He  had  even 
laughed  once  or  twice — a  thing  he  had  not  done 
for  days.  And  when  Wade  Farrand  came  into 
the  room  he  was  astonished  to  find  Marr  with 
a  broad  smile  upon  his  face. 

Farrand  had  dreaded  meeting  his  chief.  In 
fact,  he  had  purposely  avoided  him  until  Marr 
should  have  settled  himself  among  the  ladies. 
And  Farrand  was  glad  to  see  that  he  had  turned 
to  Scotch  and  soda.  Its  benign  effect  was  already 
visible. 

"Good  evening,  good  people!"  Farrand  said. 
And  when  he  had  shaken  hands  with  Marr  he 
added,  "I've  a  bit  of  news  for  you.  Our  friend 
Bristow  has  disappeared." 

"Disappeared!"  both  girls  echoed. 

"Yes !  It  seems  that  after  he  left  here  he  never 
showed  up  at  that  old  Mexican's  house,  where 
he's  been  living." 

"Why — that  was  almost  a  week  ago!"  Janet 
exclaimed. 

"Was  it?  .  .  .  I  guess  you're  right,"  Farrand 
said. 


138    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"What  could  have  become  of  him?"  Sylvia 
Marr  asked. 

Farrand  poured  himself  a  drink  as  he  an- 
swered. 

"Old  Crispo — that's  the  name  of  Bristow's  pal 
— thinks  he  was  kidnaped.  He  says  so,  anyhow. 
.  .  .  He  had  a  good  bit  of  money  on  him,  I  un- 
derstand, to  pay  off  the  men  they've  had  working 
for  them.  ...  If  you  want  my  opinion,  I'll  bet 
he's  made  his  getaway  while  the  going  was  good." 

Marr  made  no  comment  on  the  news.  But  he 
nodded  sagely,  as  if  he  cordially  endorsed  Far- 
rand's  judgment. 

"You  don't  think  he's "  Janet  began.  But 

she  stopped  abruptly.  Somehow,  she  did  not 
like  to  put  the  thing  into  bald  words.  It  was 
not  what  she  had  expected  from  Dick  Bristow. 

"Vamoosed — lit  out!"  Farrand  finished  for 
her. 

"He  means  he's  run  away,"  Janet  explained 
regretfully  to  Sylvia  Marr,  whose  knowledge  of 
American  slang  was  too  slender  to  catch  Farrand's 
meaning. 

Miss  Marr  turned  to  Farrand  wonderingly. 

"Why  do  you  think  that,  pray?"  she  inquired. 

"They  all  beat  it,  sooner  or  later — those  land 


CROSS  CURRENTS      ,         139 

sharks,"  Farrand  told  her  with  a  confident  smile. 
"He  was  just  trying  to  put  over  a  get-rich-quick 
scheme.  And  he  saw  it  tumbling." 

Marr  looked  at  Janet  significantly. 

"It's  come  even  sooner  than  I  expected,"  he 
observed. 

"He  might  have  been  kidnaped.  You  don't 
know,"  Janet  objected. 

Julian  Marr  bent  toward  her  with  an  indulgent 
twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"Bandits,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he  declared, 
"bandits  do  not  spirit  a  man  away  for  the  mere 
pleasure  of  hiding  him  in  some  isolated  spot< 
where  they  are  under  the  necessity  of  both  guard 
ing  him  and  feeding  him.  On  the  contrary,  the) 
hold  their  captives  in  order  to  extract  ransom 
from  their  families  or  their  friends.  .  .  .  Hai 
any  demand  for  ransom  money  been  made  in  thip. 
case?"  he  asked  Farrand. 

Farrand  shook  his  head. 

"None  at  all !"  he  replied. 

"You  see!"  Marr  told  Janet  conclusively. 

But  she  was  still  far  from  convinced.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  it  was  scarcely  fair  for  them  to  con- 
demn Bristow,  untried  and  unheard,  and  brand 
him  as  a  quitter,  if  not  as  a  thief. 


140   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"He — he  may  have  been  killed — and  robbed 
— and  his  body  hidden  in  the  bush,"  she  said 
slowly. 

Sylvia  Marr  shuddered  as  Janet  put  forth  her 
gruesome  theory.  But  it  had  little  effect,  ap- 
parently, upon  either  Farrand  or  the  older  man. 

"Are  they  not  searching  for  him?"  Janet  asked 
them. 

"Old  Crispo  claims  to  be,"  Farrand  said  lightly. 

"But  the  Company "  she  persisted. 

"Surely  you  have  men  whom  you  could  spare." 

Marr  came  to  Farrand's  assistance  then. 

"If  we  assumed  guardianship  over  every 
scalawag  who  comes  to  this  country  we  would 
make  mighty  little  sugar,"  he  told  her.  "Don't 
worry  over  that  chap.  He  may  be  in  Havana 
by  this  timer — or  on  his  way  to  South  America, 
more  likely.  It's  harder  to  find  people  there." 

But  still  Janet  could  not  get  Dick  Bristow  out 
of  her  mind.  That  night  she  even  dreamed  of 
him  as  lying  in  the  darkness  of  a  dense  thicket. 
She  had  seen  a  horde  of  buzzards  the  afternoon 
before,  while  riding  with  Farrand.  They  had 
gathered  about  a  decrepit  mule  which  some  one 
had  turned  adrift  to  shift  for  himself.  It  was 
evident  that  the  poor  animal  had  not  much  longer 


CROSS  CURRENTS  141 

to  live.  And  those  disgusting  scavengers  were 
waiting  until  they  could  begin  their  ghoulish  work. 
In  her  dream  they  came  back  again  to  haunt  her- 
She  tried  frantically  to  keep  them  away  from  that 
thicket.  But  as  fast  as  she  frightened  them  off 
a  myriad  of  others  dropped  down  from  the  sky. 
.  .  .  Janet  awoke  sobbing. 

After  the  feminine  contingency  had  retired, 
Julian  Marr  turned  to  Farrand. 

"This  is  a  pretty  good  time  for  Miss  Ashley 
to  sell  out  to  me,  eh?"  he  remarked. 

But  his  companion  did  not  agree  with  him. 

"Wild  horses  couldn't  drag  that  land  out  of 
her  clutches,"  Farrand  declared.  "She'll  cling  to 
it  like  grim  death,  until  that  option  expires.  .  .  . 
What's  your  hurry?  Why  not  wait  a  bit?  In  a 
little  more  than  five  months  the  option  will  be 
void.  And  then  Miss  Janet  may  feel  more  like 
disposing  of  her  share  of  the  property."  Far- 
rand was  resolved  to  do  what  he  could  to  prevent 
Marr  from  renewing  his  offer  to  Janet. 

But  Julian  Marr  was  no  procrastinator. 

"There's  no  time  like  the  present,"  he  growled. 

"Yes!  yes!"  Farrand  hastened  to  agree.  "But 
don't  you  see  that  the  girl  is  disturbed  over  Bris- 


i42   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

tow's  disappearance?  It  strikes  me  she  feels  that 
she  owes  it  to  Bristow  to  hang  on  to  her  rights 
until  she  disposes  of  them  to  him.  I  don't  under- 
stand her  attitude  at  all.  She  has  some  peculiar 
notion  in  her  head.  You  know  how  foggy  women 
are  about  most  business  transactions?" 

"You  know  almost  too  much  about  women, 
Wade,"  Marr  observed  with  a  sarcastic  smile. 
"I  bow  to  your  superior  intelligence.  The  mat- 
ter shall  wait." 

Although  Farrand  had  little  fear  that  Marr 
could  induce  Janet  to  reconsider  her  decision, 
nevertheless  he  was  relieved  to  know  that  he 
would  not  have  to  worry  on  that  score.  Before 
Marr  should  renew  his  offer  to  Janet,  Farrand 
hoped,  as  her  husband,  to  have  the  management 
of  her  business  affairs  in  his  own  hands.  Then, 
perhaps,  he  would  sell  Julian  Marr  what  he 
wanted  so  much — but  at  a  figure  commensurate 
with  the  true  worth  of  the  property. 

To  be  sure,  Janet  had  not  yet  given  Farrand 
her  answer.  But  she  had  not  rejected  him.  And 
he  still  had  high  hopes.  No  news  was  good  news 
in  his  estimation. 

Janet  was,  in  all  truth,  in  a  quandary.  She 
had  found  Farrand  both  interesting  and  attractive 


CROSS  CURRENTS  143 

in  many  ways.  But  she  hardly  thought  that  she 
loved  him.  Perhaps  she  did  not  know  what  love 
is,  she  told  herself.  But  it  seemed  to  her  that 
before  marrying  a  man  a  girl  should  be  moved 
by  some  stronger  emotion  than  she  had  yet  ex- 
perienced. Would  it  come  to  her,  if  she  waited? 
That  was  the  question  that  perplexed  her.  And 
meanwhile,  since  Farrand  preferred  no  answer  at 
all  rather  than  an  adverse  one,  she  delayed  her 
decision  in  the  hope  that  some  influence,  as  yet 
unfelt,  would  eventually  determine  the  matter  for 
her  in  no  uncertain  way. 


CHAPTER  XI 

AN  UNWILLING  GUEST 

IT  was  not  the  dun  pony's  fault  that  he  had 
stumbled.  In  the  narrow  path  lay  the  noose  of 
a  lariat,  cunningly  stretched  upon  twigs  stuck  into 
the  ground,  where  the  shadow  of  a  great  tree  con- 
cealed the  trap.  That  noose  had  proved  the 
pony's — and  his  rider's — undoing. 

As  they  came  to  an  abrupt  halt  an  indistinct 
form  had  slipped  out  from  behind  the  big  tree. 
Dick  had  not  seen  that  lurking  figure.  The 
ominous  swish,  followed  by  the  thump  of  another 
lariat  falling  about  his  shoulders,  had  given  him 
his  first  hint  of  peril. 

After  his  fall  from  his  horse  he  had  tried  to 
regain  his  feet.  But  other  men  sprang  out  of 
the  night  as  if  by  magic.  And  following  the  ex- 
ample of  the  skilful  roper,  they  threw  themselves 
upon  Dick's  prostrate  form  and  effectually 
knocked  out  of  him  what  little  breath  his  tumble 

144 


AN  UNWILLING  GUEST          145 

had  spared  him.  Amid  a  chorus  of  fierce  Span- 
ish oaths  they  bound  their  captive's  hands  behind 
him;  and  picking  him  up  bodily,  they  set  him 
astride  his  horse  again.  Then  some  one  tied  a 
rope  to  one  of  Dick's  ankles,  passing  the  end  of 
it  under  his  mount's  belly  to  another  member  of 
the  band  who  completed  the  operation  of  secur- 
ing it  to  Dick's  other  leg.  From  a  neighboring 
thicket  the  gang  then  produced  their  own  horses. 

It  was  a  gruesome  procession  that  started  off 
across  the  savannah  in  the  moonlight.  Two  of 
Dick's  captors  led  the  way,  with  their  prisoner 
and  another  rider  following  them  closely,  while 
the  remaining  pair  of  bandits  formed  a  rear- 
guard. 

For  some  time  they  proceeded  in  silence 
through  the  level,  park-like  barren.  Countless 
cabbage-palms  stretched  away  from  them  in  every 
direction.  And  so  confused  was  Dick  from  the 
effects  of  his  mauling  and  the  suddenness  of  the 
attack  that  he  had  not  the  slightest  notion  of  the 
direction  in  which  they  were  traveling.  Of  one 
thing,  however,  he  was  soon  convinced.  They 
had  left  the  trail  that  led  to  Jose  Crispo's  house. 

On  and  on  they  rode.  Dick  could  only  make  a 
vague  guess  as  to  the  distance  they  covered.  They 


i46  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

must,  at  least,  have  spent  nearly  three  hours  in 
the  saddle,  he  decided — for  the  moon  had  shifted 
far  over  in  the  cloudless  heavens. 

For  some  time  they  had  been  following  a 
bridle-path  through  a  dense  forest.  Without  a 
hand  to  ward  off  unseen  branch  or  vine,  Dick 
bent  low  over  his  horse's  withers.  And  he  was 
not  sorry  when  they  emerged  at  last  into  a  siza- 
ble clearing.  That  hole  cut  in  the  heart  of  the 
bush  appeared  to  Dick  to  be  a  brava~—one  of 
those  concealed  retreats  upon  which  one  occa- 
sionally stumbles,  which  have  served  in  time  of 
war  to  hide  women  and  children. 

In  the  center  of  the  clearing  stood  a  few 
thatched  huts  huddled  together;  and  in  frqnt  of 
one  of  these  the  party  dismounted.  A  light  glim- 
mered from  the  doorway  of  the  shack  and  a  man 
carrying  a  lantern  came  out  and  spoke  to  them. 
He  walked  up  to  Dick,  whose  hobbled  legs  effect- 
ually prevented  his  stirring  from  his  horse,  and 
holding  up  the  lantern  so  that  its  rays  fell  full 
upon  Dick's  face  the  feilow  laughed  as  if  hugely 
amused  at  the  prisoner's  plight. 

"Welcome!"  he  said  in  Spanish,  and  his  fat 
face  was  wreathed  in  smiles.  "I  have  been  ex- 
pecting you,  senor,  for  some  time.  Are  you  not 


AN  UNWILLING  GUEST          147 

going  to  alight?"  The  fellow  grinned  at  his 
pleasantry.  "Pray  enter!"  he  added.  "This  is 
your  house.  I  am  your  servant,"  he  said,  with 
mock  hospitality. 

Dick  thanked  him. 

"I'll  come  in,"  he  answered,  "as  soon  as  you 
take  this  lariat  off  my  legs.  Your  friends  here 
were  kind  enough  to  tie  me  to  my  horse.  I  sup- 
pose they  feared  I  might  fall  asleep  and  tumble 
off." 

"Ah!  they  are  indeed  kind — these  boys!  Such 
good  fellows!"  the  other  chuckled.  "Here, 
Ramon!  Help  me  with  our  guest!  Where  are 
your  manners,  hombre?" 

One  of  the  horsemen  sprang  to  the  assistance 
of  his  fat  comrade.  And  between  them  they  soon 
freed  Dick's  legs  and  pulled  him  off  his  horse. 
His  hands  they  still  left  securely  tied. 

"Why  all  this  hospitality,  if  I  may  ask?"  said 
Dick,  as  the  rest  of  the  gang  returned  from 
tethering  their  horses  to  the  fence  in  front  of 
the  house  and  gathered  about  him. 

The  only  answer  he  received  was  a  brutal  kick 
from  one  of  his  captors — he  who  had  ridden  in 
the  lead  and  guided  the  party  to  that  remote 
clearing. 


i48    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"Shut  up!"  he  growled.  "And  do  as  you  are 
told,  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you." 

"Have  a  care,  Pepe!"  the  fat  man  said  in  play- 
ful reproof.  "What  a  way  to  treat  a  guest!  .  .  . 
Or  were  you  trying  to  help  him  to  the  palace?" 
He  inclined  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  dilapi- 
dated hut.  » 

But  the  other  seemed  little  given  to  humor. 

"Vamos!"  he  said.  "Come  on!  I,  for  one,  am 
hungry  as  a  pig."  And  with  that  he  started  for 
the  house,  leaving  the  others  to  follow. 

It  struck  Dick  that  there  was  something 
vaguely  familiar  about  the  man  they  called  Pepe. 
His  voice,  too,  haunted  Dick  with  the  feeling  that 
he  had  heard  it  before.  And  once  inside  the  hut 
he  solved  the  mystery  promptly.  In  the  flickering 
light  of  the  lantern  Dick  recognized  him  at  once. 
He  was  a  lean  mestizo  whom  he  knew  as  the  sole 
barber  that  Rio  Chico  boasted.  He  had  cut 
Dick's  hair  on  several  occasions,  and  had  even 
shaved  him,  too,  though  the  suspicion  attached  to 
the  chap  hardly  tended  to  make  one  feel  any  too 
comfortable  as  the  barber's  razor  lingered  over 
one's  throat.  Rumor  identified  the  ill-favored 
Pepe  as  the  former  right-hand  man  of  the  noto- 
rious bandit  Fernandez,  who  had.  so  terrorized 


AN  UNWILLING  GUEST          149 

three  states  as  to  make  his  name  a  household  bug- 
aboo. 

The  fellow  scowled  as  he  saw  that  Dick  recog- 
nized him. 

"You're  a  long  way  from  home,"  Dick  re- 
marked to  him. 

"I  can  still  use  a  razor,"  the  ruffian  vouch- 
safed. "Take  care  that  I  don't  have  to  draw  one 
across  your  windpipe,  senor." 

It  was  apparent  that  the  fat  man  had,  indeed, 
expected  them.  On  a  bench-like  structure  in  the 
center  of  the  main  room  coffee  boiled  merrily  over 
a  charcoal  fire  and  a  steaming  pot  threw  off  an 
agreeable  odor.  Their  rotund  host  produced  tin 
plates  and  spoons;  and  immediately  his  guests 
turned  to  and  helped  themselves  liberally  to  the 
savory  mess  from  the  pot.  Meanwhile  he  of  the 
moon  face  and  the  engaging  smile  untied  Dick's 
hands  and  set  out  a  generous  share  of  the  refresh- 
ments for  him. 

Though  the  kidnapers  had  taken  away  his  re- 
volver when  they  first  waylaid  him,  two  of  them 
took  the  precaution  of  examining  Dick's  clothes 
once  more  for  concealed  weapons.  They  found 
nothing,  however.  And  after  chafing  his  be- 
numbed wrists  for  a  few  minutes  until  he  could 


150   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

manage  his  spoon,  Dick  ate  the  bacalao — codfish, 
cooked  with  rice — which  the  Mexicans  esteem  so 
highly. 

"Now,"  said  the  mestizo,  Pepe,  as  he  finished 
sucking  up  his  coffee,  "now  we  shall  see  what  the 
Yanqui  pig  carries  in  his  pockets."  And  he  or- 
dered Dick  to  strip  off  his  clothes. 

Mr.  Bristow  politely  obliged.  Under  the  urg- 
ing of  the  versatile  barber  he  divested  himself  of 
every  stitch  he  had  on,  not  even  excepting  shoes 
and  stockings.  And  then  he  waited  in  the  state 
of  nature,  shivering  from  the  cold,  while  the 
bandit  Pepe  emptied  every  pocket  and  carefully 
examined  every  garment  to  make  sure  that  he 
overlooked  nothing. 

Dick's  watch  and  money  the  fellow  promptly 
transferred  to  his  own  keeping,  paying  scant  heed 
to  the  protesting  murmur  of  his  companions,  who 
seemed  to  think  that  they,  too,  should  share  in 
the  spoils. 

"There's  nothing  here,"  he  said  shortly,  toss- 
ing Dick's  garments  back  to  him.  "Bring  in  his 
saddle-bags!"  he  commanded  one  of  his  lieuten- 
ants. And  soon  he  had  dumped  the  contents  of 
the  bags  upon  the  dirt  floor. 

At  the  sight  of  the  two  canvas  money-sacks 


AN  UNWILLING  GUEST          151 

which  contained  the  coin  and  bills  Dick  had 
brought  for  the  purpose  of  paying  off  his  labor- 
ers, the  remaining  five  of  his  captors  momentarily 
forgot  their  prisoner.  They  crowded  together, 
chattering  excitedly. 

"It  must  be  divided  equally,"  the  fat  man  de- 
clared, who  alone  of  the  party  seemed  to  stand  in 
no  awe  of  the  leader. 

"You'll  all  get  your  share,"  the  mestizo  said 
sourly. 

"It  is  well,"  the  other  replied.  He  turned  and 
beamed  upon  Dick.  "I  am  sure  our  friend  here 
would  wish  each  of  us  to  share  the  good  fortune 
—no?" 

"By  all  means!"  Dick  told  him. 

It  did  not  please  the  others  at  all  when  Pepe 
threw  the  sacks  into  a  corner,  with  the  remark 
that  they  would  divide  the  booty  after  they  had 
slept.  And  after  some  wrangling  he  yielded.  It 
was  when  the  fat  man  added  his  protestation  to 
that  of  the  others  that  Pepe  let  them  have  their 
way. 

After  each  had  counted  his  portion  of  the 
money  and  stowed  it  carefully  away  the  high- 
waymen began  to  yawn.  And  soon,  with  the  con- 
sent of  the  surly  Pepe,  two  of  them  disappeared 


152  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

into  the  boxlike  sleeping-room  at  the  rear  of  the 
house.  Two  others  Pepe  ordered  to  remain,  to 
guard  the  prisoner.  And  since  Dick  saw  no  rea- 
son why  he  should  lose  any  more  of  his  beauty 
sleep,  he  stretched  himself  upon  a  makeshift 
bench,  constructed  of  two  boards  split  from  the 
trunk  of  a  palm  and  supported  at  either  end  by  a 
cubical  kerosene  can.  For  warmth  he  had  donned 
his  slicker,  which  one  of  the  men  had  unfastened 
from  his  saddle.  And  soon  he  was  fast  asleep. 

As  for  Pepe  the  barber  and  his  fat  companion, 
£hey  lighted  another  lantern  and  went  out  into 
the  night.  It  was  dark  outside,  for  the  moon 
had  set.  But  they  did  not  go  far.  They  merely 
pushed  into  another  of  the  long-deserted  huts; 
and  there  they  proceeded  to  discuss  the  night's 
work. 

After  a  conversation  which  would  have  af- 
forded their  captive  no  end  of  interest,  had  he 
heard  it,  they  stretched  their  hammocks,  rolled 
themselves  in  their  blankets,  with  heads  com- 
pletely covered  and  legs  sticking  out — for  so  the 
country  Mexican  disposes  himself  for  the  night — 
and  proceeded  to  lose  themselves  in  the  deep 
slumber  which  blesses  those  whose  consciences  are 
untroubled. 


AN  UNWILLING  GUEST          153 

The  sun  was  streaming  through  the  doorway 
when  Dick  awoke,  to  discover  that  his  guard  had 
been  changed  while  he  slept.  Only  one  of  the 
band  watched  him  now.  It  was  with  some  dif- 
ficulty that  he  rose  from  his  improvised  bed,  for 
the  spring  of  the  palm-boards  was  a  negligible 
quantity.  What  with  his  fall  from  his  horse  when 
he  was  roped  and  thrown,  the  rough  handling  he 
had  received,  and  the  damp  cold  of  the  tropical 
night,  he  had  not  needed  the  assistance  of  so 
hard  a  couch  to  make  him  sore  in  every  muscle. 
The  Mexican  grinned  as  Dick  stretched  himself 
gingerly. 

"Good-morning!"  the  guard  said.  "You  have 
slept  well,  no?" 

"One  could  wish  for  a  better  bed,"  Dick  told 
him. 

"You  will  get  used  to  that,"  the  rascal  observed 
pleasantly,  "that  is,  if  you  do  not  displease  Pepe 
Moreno  too  much.  And  in  that  case  you  will  not 
need  to  worry  about  such  a  thing  as  a  bed.  In 
fact,  you  will  not  need  to  worry  about  anything 
in  this  world." 

The  insinuation  did  not  trouble  Dick  greatly. 
But  he  did  not  relish  the  thought  of  spending 


154   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

much  time  as  a  prisoner  in  that  hidden  pocket  in 
the  jungle. 

"Where's  Senor  Gordo— Mr.  Fat  Man?"  Dick 
asked. 

"Fernandez,  you  mean?"  the  fellow  inquired. 
"He  and  Pepe  have  ridden  away  and  left  the 
four  of  us  to  keep  you  company." 

"Fernandez!"  Dick  exclaimed.  "That  little, 

round  ball  of  a  man  is  not  the — er "  He  did 

not  know  exactly  how  to  say  what  was  on  the  tip 
of  his  tongue.  But  his  guard  had  no  such  deli- 
cacy of  feeling.  His  sensibilities  were  not  so  re- 
fined as  to  prevent  his  calling  a  spade  by  its  cus- 
tomary name. 

"He  is,  indeed,  the  famous  bandit,"  he  said, 
with  what  seemed  an  air  of  pride. 

Dick  looked  at  him  in  silence  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. He  had  not  dreamed  that  that  smiling, 
unctuous  roly-poly  was  the  most  notorious  brigand 
in  the  whole  tierra  caliente. 

"And  you  ?"  he  inquired.  "Are  you,  also,  some 
celebrated  personage?" 

The  man  smiled  good-naturedly  enough. 

"I  am  just  a  poor  hombre,"  he  said,  shaking 
his  head,  "a  poor  man  who  tries  to  pick  up  a 


AN  UNWILLING  GUEST          155 

penny  when  he  can,  by  doing  Fernandez  a  good 
turn  now  and  then.  He  is  a  kind  soul — Fernan- 
dez !  He  is  ready  always  to  share  everything 
with  his  friends.  .  .  .  Quite  different  from  that 
dog  of  a  Pepe,"  he  added  with  a  whine. 

"What's  the  game?"  Dick  asked  him  suddenly, 
lowering  his  voice.  "Am  I  to  be  held  for  ransom? 
Tell  me!  I  promise  you  shalJ  not  be  the  loser 
by  it!" 

The  other  waved  a  finger  at  him  to  indicate 
that  he  had  no  information  to  divulge. 

"You  must  know,"  Dick  persisted. 

"No,  my  friend!  I  only  follow  orders.  We 
four  are  to  stay  here  with  you  until  the  others  re- 
turn. That  is  all  I  can  say,  for  it  is  all  I  know." 
And  that  was  all  Dick  could  extract  from  him. 

The  prospect,  even  viewed  optimistically,  was 
far  from  alluring.  If  hearsay  went  for  any- 
thing, Dick  knew  that  Fernandez  deserved  his  un- 
savory reputation.  Although  the  number  of  men 
he  had  killed  had  doubtless  not  decreased  in  the 
telling,  he  certainly  would  not  stop  at  murder 
when  it  served  his  purpose.  And  when  ransom 
money  was  slow  in  forthcoming  he  had  a  most 
unpleasant  habit  of  despatching  an  ear  to  a  pris- 


156   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

oner's  relations,  in  order  to  hurry  matters  along. 
If  they  still  delayed  payment,  a  second  ear  gen- 
erally followed.  That  usually  did  the  business, 
for  events  had  proved  further  procrastination  to 
be  most  unwise.  Indeed,  unless  he  were  ran- 
somed at  once,  at  that  stage  of  the  proceedings, 
the  owner  of  the  ears  seldom  returned  to  claim 
his  property  at  all. 

Under  the  circumstances  it  was  only  natural 
that  Dick's  thoughts  should  turn  toward  escape, 
despite  the  overwhelming  odds  against  him. 
There  was,  at  least,  some  slight  consolation  in  the 
fact  that  the  absence  of  Fernandez  and  the  mes- 
tizo Pepe  had  reduced  his  captors  a  third  in  num- 
bers. Dick  reflected,  too,  that  doubtless  the  re- 
moval of  those  two  seasoned  bandits  must  sub- 
stantially affect  the  fighting  morale  of  the  men 
who  were  left.  But  even  so,  the  prospect  of  at- 
tacking his  four  armed  guards  while  he  was  him- 
self weaponless  was  by  no  means  attractive.  Still 
Dick  could  not  help  turning  the  matter  over  in  his 
mind. 

"Where  are  your  three  friends?"  he  asked  his 
solitary  guard. 

"All  asleep!"  the  fellow  said,  jerking  a  thumb 


AN  UNWILLING  GUEST          157 

toward  the  rear  room.  It  was  clear  that  in  the 
absence  of  the  two  chieftains  the  others  had  re- 
laxed their  vigilance. 

Dick  knew,  from  experience,  that  those  pens 
which  serve  the  country  people  for  bedrooms  were 
invariably  without  any  opening  except  the  one 
door  which  connected  with  the  main  room,  for 
your  rural  Mexican  prefers  his  sleeping  quarters 
to  be  as  nearly  hermetically  sealed  as  may  be  pos- 
sible. And  in  this  instance  the  door  was  shut. 
Dick's  heart  leaped  within  him. 

He  cast  a  cautious  and  searching  glance  about 
the  room.  But  he  saw  nothing  that  he  could  pos- 
sibly use  as  an  improvised  weapon.  His  com- 
panion, on  the  other  hand,  was  well  armed. 
Through  the  slit  of  his  nondescript  upper  gar- 
ment, which  combined  shirt  and  coat,  the  stock  of 
a  heavy  revolver  protruded  near  his  right  hip. 
At  the  left  a  machete  hung,  swordlike.  And 
through  the  thin  brown  linen  Dick  could  easily 
make  out  the  bulge  of  a  sheathed  knife  attached 
to  his  belt  in  the  middle  of  his  back. 

Dick  realized  that  his  only  chance  in  coping 
with  that  walking  arsenal  lay  in  his  disabling  the 
ruffian  before  he  could  bring  any  of  his  weapons 
into  play.  He  weighed  the  risk  hurriedly  in  his 


I5 8    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

mind.  One  swift,  crushing  blow,  landed  in  the 
right  spot,  would  put  him  in  possession  of  the 
revolver.  But  if  he  failed — well !  one  had  always 
to  take  chances  in  life.  .  .  . 

"Who's  that?"  he  asked  the  Greaser  suddenly, 
pointing  through  the  open  doorway. 

Caught  off  his  guard  for  a  moment,  the  fellow 
jumped  to  his  feet  and  peered  out. 

And  then  Dick  leaped  towards  him. 

As  he  sprang,  the  man  wheeled  and  snatched 
at  his  revolver.  He  did  not  attempt  to  draw  the 
gun.  The  leather  about  the  trigger  and  the  end 
of  the  barrel  as  well  was  cut  away.  And  pointing 
holster  and  all  at  Dick  he  tired  point-blank  at  him. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AT  THE  END  OF  THE  STREET 

JOSE  CRISPO  was  genuinely  alarmed.  Pay-day 
came  and  went;  and  still  Dick  did  not  return  with 
the  money.  Old  Jose  did  not  hesitate  long.  Tak- 
ing one  of  his  numerous  sons  with  him — a  tall, 
upstanding  young  fellow — he  set  out  for  Rio 
Chico  to  learn  what  he  could  of  the  whereabouts 
of  the  missing  gringo. 

At  every  house  along  the  way  they  paused  to 
make  inquiry — a  precaution  which  delayed  them 
little,  so  sparsely  was  the  whole  region  settled. 
They  had  been  less  than  two  hours  on  their  jour- 
ney when  they  reached  the  hut  where  Dick  had 
waited  until  the  moon  should  rise. 

The  story  that  Jose  Crispo  heard  there  left  no 
doubt  in  his  mind  that  Dick  had  been  waylaid  and 
robbed.  Where  he  was — whether  he  was  at  that 
moment  even  alive — were  questions  which  he  was 
utterly  at  a  loss  to  solve. 

Turning  back  then,  Crispo  and  his  son  rode 
159 


homeward  again.  But  look  as  sharply  as  they 
would,  they  could  discover  no  trace  of  the  man 
they  sought. 

Among  his  nearest  neighbors  the  old  man  or- 
ganized such  assistance  as  he  was  able.  And 
mounting  as  many  of  his  own  sons  and  De  Boer's 
laborers  as  he  could  supply  with  horses,  he  con- 
ducted a  fairly  systematic  search  for  Dick.  But 
not  a  single  sign  did  they  find  that  even  faintly 
suggested  the  manner  of  his  disappearance.  The 
gringo  with  the  big  chin  had  vanished  as  com- 
pletely as  if  the  forest  had  opened  and  hugged 
him  to  its  breast. 

It  was  then  that  Jose  Crispo  rode  to  Rio  Chico 
with  his  news.  He  had  hoped,  vainly,  to  find  that 
some  forgotten  business  detail  had  led  Dick  to 
return  there.  But  once  in  the  village  he  remained 
as  mystified  as  ever.  He  then  sent  the  first  tele- 
gram of  his  life.  And  as  soon  as  Thomas  De 
Boer  received  it  he  took  the  first  train  south- 
ward. 

De  Boer  arrived  at  Rio  Chico  the  following 
day,  armed  with  a  letter  from  the  generalissimo 
of  the  Constitutionalist  army  which  was  addressed 
to  the  captain  of  the  detachment  of  rural  guards 
stationed  at  Julian  Marr's  town. 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  STREET    161 

He  went  straight  to  the  barracks  to  deliver  his 
note. 

El  capitdn  read  the  stilted  epistle  with  interest. 
Since  it  had  long  ago  become  a  matter  of  course 
to  attribute  all  depredations  in  that  section  of  the 
country  to  the  bandit  Fernandez,  the  general  had 
at  once  jumped  at  the  conclusion  that  that  pre- 
cious rascal  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  present 
trouble.  And  besides,  there  was  a  rumor  cur- 
rent (which  had  reached  Mexico  City)  to  the 
effect  that  people  had  lately  seen  Fernandez  in 
that  locality.  He  had  therefore  sent  instructions 
to  his  captain  to  renew  the  periodic  hunt  for 
Fernandez,  to  take  him,  in  short,  dead  or  alive. 
And  incidentally  he  reminded  his  officer  of  the 
price  which  the  government  had  set  upon  Fernan- 
dez's head. 

But  that  was  not  why  el  capitdn  smiled  as  he 
read  his  orders.  The  detail  pleased  him  because 
it  was  understood  that  any  officers  and  men  en- 
gaged in  the  agreeable  pastime  of  stalking  Fer- 
nandez should  receive  double  pay.  .  .  .  Possibly 
that  was  the  reason  why  the  elusive  gentleman 
still  roamed  at  large.  Surely  it  would  have  been 
stupid  to  kill  a  goose  that  laid  eggs  of  that  sort ! 

The  officer  stuffed  the  note  inside  his  khaki 


1 62   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

tunic  and  hastened  to  set  out  a  drink  of  brandy 
for  his  caller.  Such  acquaintance  as  he  had  had 
with  Americans  had  taught  him  that  that  was  the 
surest  method  of  establishing  cordial  relations 
with  them. 

"Everything  shall  be  done  as  the  general  says,'* 

he  assured  De  Boer.  "Mariana "  De  Boer 

had  been  expecting  that  inevitable  "to-morrow" — 
"manana  I  will  send  out  scouting  parties.  I  will 
even  lead  one  myself.  And  if  you  like  you  shall 
accompany  us." 

So  the  matter  was  arranged.  That  evening 
Jose  Crispo  borrowed  a  horse  for  De  Boer  from 
one  of  the  storekeepers,  who  also  took  Dick's 
chief  into  his  house  for  the  night. 

It  was  not  long  before  every  soul  in  the  village 
knew  what  was  afoot.  And  Crispo  found  himself 
deluged  with  suggestions  as  to  the  bandit's  pos- 
sible whereabouts.  So  absurd  were  some  of  them 
that  any  one  of  a  suspicious  turn  of  mind  might 
almost  have  supposed  them  to  be  inspired  by  a 
desire  to  send  the  searchers  on  a  fruitless  chase. 
But  el  capitdn — to  De  Boer's  astonishment — 
religiously  made  note  of  them  all. 

Later  that  night,  when  the  American  and 
Crispo  returned  to  the  storekeeper's  dwelling  in 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  STREET    163 

the  rear  of  his  shop,  they  found  a  boy  waiting  for 
them.  He  whispered  a  few  words  to  Crispo,  who 
soon  turned  to  De  Boer  and  said: 

"He  tells  me  that  some  one  wishes  to  talk  with 
us — some  one  in  a  house  at  the  further  end  of 
this  street.  He  will  not  say  who  it  is.  But  it  is 
evident  that  the  business  concerns  Senor  Bristow. 
The  boy  will  show  us  the  way.  .  .  .  Shall  we 
follow  him?" 

After  the  foolishness  to  which  he  had  been  lis- 
tening in  the  barracks  De  Boer  was  prompted  to 
say  "No."  But  on  second  thought  he  decided  that 
circumstances  did  not  warrant  the  rejection,  un- 
heard, of  any  possible  clue. 

"All  right !"  he  agreed.  "We  may  as  well  hear 
one  as  another."  And  with  that  they  started. 

When  their  guide  had  piloted  them  past  a  num- 
ber of  cafes  and  shops  he  turned  suddenly  down  a 
dark  side-street,  which  brought  them,  after  a  few 
steps,  to  an  alley  which  ran  parallel  to  the  street 
they  had  just  left. 

"Have  the  goodness  to  go  quietly,"  he  said  to 
them,  as  he  motioned  to  them  to  follow.  "It  is 
desired  that  no  one  shall  see  you  in  this  place." 

As  they  stole  along  the  star-lit  passage  De  Boer 
noticed  that  numerous  doors  opened  into  it.  And 


1 64   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

he  saw,  too,  that  the  further  end  of  the  alley  was 
closed  by  a  blank  wall.  Staid  New  York  business 
man  that  he  was,  he  could  think  of  many  pleas- 
anter  situations.  Prowling  through  that  blind 
alley  at  night  to  meet  a  mysterious  stranger  sa- 
vored too  much  of  the  fantastic  to  suit  his  taste. 
It  occurred  to  him,  moreover,  that  any  one  step- 
ping out  of  one  of  those  doors  that  they  had 
passed  could  effectually  cut  off  their  retreat.  The 
idea  was  not  an  agreeable  one — especially  when 
he  considered  the  nature  of  his  errand,  concern- 
ing as  it  did  the  sudden  disappearance  of  another 
American.  And  the  thought  came  to  him  that 
Jose  Crispo  might  know  more  about  Dick  than 
he  claimed.  De  Boer  was  no  coward.  But  he 
put  his  hand  in  his  coat-pocket.  There  was  com- 
fort in  the  feel  of  the  automatic  pistol  that  he 
carried  there. 

Near  the  end  of  the  passage  the  boy  knocked 
lightly  on  a  door.  And  soon  they  found  them- 
selves in  a  bare,  barn-like  room.  There  were  a 
few  cheap  chairs,  a  bed,  a  table ;  and  to  De  Boer's 
satisfaction,  an  acetylene  flame  furnished  plenty 
of  light.  The  man  who  admitted  them  to  the 
house  bade  them  be  seated.  And  then  he  left 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  STREET    165 

them,  to  return  after  a  few  minutes  with  a  good- 
looking  native  girl. 

"My  sister-in-law!"  he  explained.  "She  wishes 
to  tell  you  something  that  will  interest  you.  .  .  . 
There  is  no  time  to  lose,"  he  said  to  the  girl  sig- 
nificantly. And  motioning  to  the  boy  to  stay,  he 
disappeared  into  the  front  part  of  the  building, 
closing  the  door  carefully  behind  him. 

De  Boer,  no  less  than  Crispo,  looked  at  the 
girl  in  surprise.  They  had  not  expected  to  meet 
a  woman.  And  furthermore,  this  one  was  unde- 
niably pretty.  Her  dead  black  hair  and  slightly 
staring  eyes  contrasted  startlingly  with  the  pallor 
of  her  face,  which  she  had  powdered  with  a  lavish 
hand.  She  was  dressed  in  a  bizarre  fashion  in  a 
tight-fitting  gown  covered  with  spangles.  And  in 
her  ears  glittered  stones  which  might  have  cost 
almost  anything — or  nothing.  At  all  events,  her 
costume  displayed  her  sleek  figure  to  advantage. 
De  Boer  had  seen  her  like  before,  on  the  streets 
of  Havana.  And  he  had  a  shrewd  suspicion  that 
she  owed  something  of  her  physical  perfection  to 
a  touch  of  the  African,  which  a  preponderance  of 
Spanish  blood  had  subdued  and  refined  but  not 
entirely  subjugated.  She  impressed  him,  some- 


1 66   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

how,  as  a  splendid,  tigerish  animal,  docile  at 
times,  but  a  vixen  when  roused. 

"You  wish  to  speak  with  us?"  he  asked  her, 
since  she  seemed  at  a  loss  for  words. 

"Yes,  senor''  she  answered,  relieved  to  find 
that  he  could  manage  her  language,  albeit  some- 
what lamely.  He  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  spent 
enough  time  in  South  America  to  pick  up  a  smat- 
tering of  Spanish. 

"It  is  about  the  American,  Bristow?" 

"Yes,  senor." 

"What  do  you  know  about  him?"  he  persisted. 

She  fanned  herself  nervously  under  his  cross 
examination. 

"He  is  alive,"  she  said  at  length.  "He  is  held 
in  the  country — a  prisoner." 

"Where?"  Jose  Crispo  broke  in,  with  an  eager- 
ness which  convinced  De  Boer  of  his  anxiety. 

"That  I  do  not  know,"  the  girl  answered.  "But 
the  place  is  not  more  than  six  leagues  from  your 
house." 

"How  do  you  know  this?"  De  Boer  demanded. 

"That  I  cannot  tell  you,"  she  replied.  "But 
what  I  say  is  true.  And  you  must  let  no  one  know 
that  I  have  spoken  with  you.  If  you  should,  they 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  STREET    167 

would  make  me  pay."  Fear  plainly  showed  in  her 
dark  eyes  as  she  regarded  him  intently. 

"They!"  he  exclaimed.  "Whom  do  you  mean 
by  they?" 

"Pepe — and  Fernandez!" 

"But  that  rascal  of  a  barber  is  here,"  Crispo 
objected.  "I  saw  him  this  very  day,  with  my  own 
eyes." 

"In  the  daytime — yes!"  she  answered  haught- 
ily. "But  one  can  ride  far  in  a  night,  senor.  He 
is  even  now  gone  to  the  place  where  the  gringo 
is  imprisoned.  .  .  .  This  is  all  I  can  tell  you," 
she  added.  And  she  shot  a  suggestive  look  at 
the  boy  who  had  brought  them  to  the  house.  "Get 
Ricardo!"  she  commanded  sharply. 

"I  have  told  them  all,"  she  announced  with  an 
air  of  finality,  when  her  alleged  brother-in-law 
had  returned. 

"It  is  not  much,"  Crispo  grumbled.  "I  think 
she  knows  more." 

The  girl's  eyes  flashed  as  she  turned  upon  him 
angrily. 

"Listen,  old  man "  she  cried,  "is  it  not 

something  to  know  that  you  have  to  look  for  a  live 
gringo  instead  of  a  dead  one  ?" 


i68   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"Yes!"  Jose  Crispo  admitted.  "But  in  the 
name  of  the  Virgin,  where  are  we  to  search?  The 
country  is  big.  And  anything  may  happen  to  our 
friend  while  we  are  hunting  for  him." 

The  man  Ricardo  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"That  is  not  her  fault,"  he  said.  .  .  .  "Why  do 
you  not  set  a  watch  on  Pepe?  Why  do  you  not 
follow  him  the  next  time  he  rides  away  in  the 
night?" 

But  Crispo  was  pessimistic. 

"He  is  too  clever — that  scamp!"  he  observed. 

Ricardo  turned  towards  the  door  then — the 
door  that  opened  into  the  alley. 

"I  am  sorry  if  I  seem  inhospitable,  gentlemen," 
he  said.  "This  house  is,  naturally,  your  home. 
But  you  will  be  wise  if  you  do  not  occupy  it  too 

long  to-night.  Some  other  time,  if  you  will 

But  to-night — no !" 

Polite  as  it  was,  the  hint  was  too  obvious  to  be 
disregarded.  So  De  Boer  thanked  the  dark 
beauty.  And  he  wished  her  good-night.  But 
Jose  Crispo  wasted  no  felicitations  upon  her.  He 
would  have  liked  to  twist  her  arm  until  she  told 
him  more. 

They  had  scarcely  risen  from  their  seats;  and 
the  man  Ricardo's  hand  was  reaching  for  the  bolt 


on  the  door  when  a  loud  knock  upon  it  sent  him 
suddenly  back. 

For  a  moment  they  stood  in  utter  silence  and 
stared  at  one  another.  It  was  clear  that  the  girl 
was  alarmed.  And  Ricardo,  too,  appeared  ill 
at  ease. 

After  a  brief  interval  the  knock  was  repeated. 

"Come  this  way!"  the  man  whispered,  beckon- 
ing to  them  to  follow  him  into  the  next  room.  "I 
will  let  you  out  into  the  street.  ...  It  is  to  be 
hoped  that  no  one  will  see  you  leaving." 

The  front  of  the  house  was  quite  dark;  and 
De  Boer  barked  his  shins  against  some  heavy 
piece  of  furniture  as  he  stumbled  through  the 
blackness. 

Then  something  happened  that  sent  Ricardo 
into  a  string  of  muffled  curses.  Some  one  was 
at  the  front  door  now.  It  rattled  ominously 
under  a  terrific  pounding.  And  De  Boer  heard  a 
bang  as  of  another  door  slammed  shut  behind  him. 
He  groped  along  the  wall  until  his  hand  fell  upon 
the  latch.  But  to  his  consternation  that  inner 
door  was  locked  fast. 

Was  it  a  trap?  As  the  thought  flashed  into 
his  mind  he  called  himself  a  fool  for  having  come 
to  that  strange  house  on  so  vague  an  errand,  and 


i  yo   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

in  company  with  so   recent  and  untried  an  ac- 
quaintance as  old  Jose. 

"Crispo !"  he  called,  as  his  eyes  strove  to  pierce 
the  gloom.  But  Jose  Crispo  did  not  answer.  In- 
stead a  woman's  voice  rose  in  a  shrill  scream. 


MARK   HEARS   ENOUGH 

JULIAN  MARR  seldom  cumbered  his  mind  with 
details.  That  was  one  of  the  secrets  of  his  suc- 
cess. An  excellent  judge  of  men,  he  surrounded 
himself  with  assistants  whom  he  could  trust  to 
execute  his  orders  without  inquiry  as  to  ways  and 
means.  When  he  issued  a  command  to  an  em- 
ployee he  expected  results.  And  in  the  main  it 
was  immaterial  to  him  how  those  results  were 
obtained. 

The  telegrams  he  had  sent  to  Cisneros  and 
Farrand  from  Mexico  City  were  entirely  charac- 
teristic of  him:  "Aguacate  not  to  be  sold.  Re- 
cover option." 

Cisneros  had  done  what  he  could.  He  had  sent 
two  men  into  the  Hotel  Inglaterra  with  instruc- 
tions to  relieve  Mr.  Bristow  of  the  desired  docu- 
ment. And  when  they  reported  their  failure  to 
him  he  had  been  justifiably  dismayed.  He  knew 

171 


172   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

that  Marr  was  impatient  of  failure.  But  he  had 
immediately  wired  news  of  the  abortive  attempt 
to  the  great  Englishman,  for  he  realized  that  neg- 
lect to  do  that  would  have  been  unforgivable. 
And  by  apprising  his  chief  of  the  fact  that  Bristow 
had  the  option  on  his  person  he  hoped  to  mitigate 
Marr's  displeasure.  Moreover,  he  had  advised 
Marr  of  Bristow's  movements.  It  had  been  a 
simple  matter  to  ascertain  the  point  to  which  he 
had  bought  his  railroad  ticket. 

Wade  Farrand  had  gone  about  his  task  with 
more  determination  than  the  native  land  commis- 
sioner had  displayed.  Thoroughness  was  one  of 
his  strong  points.  And  the  trap  he  set  for  Dick 
permitted  small  chance  of  escape.  The  supple- 
mentary telegram  which  Marr  had  sent  him — the 
one  he  had  opened  in  Dick's  presence — had  in- 
formed him  of  the  de  facto  government's  defiance 
of  the  protest  from  Washington.  Farrand  sensed, 
then,  the  disaster  that  threatened  his  own  pet 
scheme  to  marry  Janet  and  so  obtain  control  of 
her  share  of  the  mine.  He  had  trusted  to  Marr's 
ability  to  hold  De  Boer's  operations  in  check. 
And  when  he  saw  that  Marr  was  on  the  verge  of 
utter  rout  he  redoubled  his  own  efforts  to  frustrate 
Dick's  plans.  He  left  no  stone  undisturbed  the 


MARK  HEARS  ENOUGH          1731 

turning  of  which  would  contribute  to  the  success 
of  the  undertaking. 

It  was  Farrand  who  had  ordered  the  Com- 
pany's blacksmith  to  twist  a  shoe  half  of  Dick's 
horse.  It  was  Farrand  who  had  contrived  to  hold 
Dick  in  Rio  Chico  by  the  pretense  that  he  ex- 
pected Julian  Marr  that  day.  And  again,  it  was 
Farrand  who  had  conceived  the  idea  of  the  note 
purporting  to  come  from  Jose  Crispo,  calling 
Dick  home  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  night 
must  surely  overtake  him. 

Pepe  the  barber  had  performed  sundry  services 
for  Farrand  before.  And  between  them  they  had 
carefully  worked  out  the  details  of  Dick's  kid- 
naping. The  robbery  had  been  merely  incidental. 
That  was  a  piece  of  luck  for  Pepe  and  his  fel- 
lows and  something  that  Farrand  knew  nothing 
about.  The  option  was  what  Farrand  wanted. 
And  when  Pepe  returned  to  Rio  Chico  and  told 
him  that  he  had  failed  to  find  it  on  the  American, 
Marr's  henchman  was  indeed  dismayed. 

He  considered  the  situation  intently.  Lacking 
the  option,  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  next  best 
thing  would  be  to  hold  prisoner  the  man  to  whom 
it  had  been  issued.  Pepe  assured  him  that  there 
was  not  the  slightest  chance  that  any  one  could 


i74  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

locate  that  out-of-the-way  retreat  in  the  forest. 

"What  if  they  call  out  the  ruralesf  Farrand 
asked  him  doubtfully.  He  knew  the  rural  guard 
to  be  thoroughly  familiar  with  even  the  wildest 
sections  of  the  State. 

"You  forget  that  I  have  Fernandez  to  help 
me,"  Pepe  reminded  him.x  "Even  now  he  is  wait- 
ing for  me  at  the  house  of  a  friend  not  two  kilo- 
meters away.  And  when  have  the  rurales  trou- 
bled Fernandez?  No!  I  tell  you  we  can  hold 
the  gringo  there  until  his  beard  is  a  yard  long, 
before  any  one  will  disturb  us." 

So  Farrand  sent  the  rascal  away  again. 

On  his  own  account,  even  more  than  Marr's, 
Wade  Farrand  regretted  the  fact  that  his  plans 
had  miscarried  to  the  extent  of  not  placing  the 
option  in  his  hands.  If  he  could  only  have  ob- 
tained possession  of  that  ominous  document  he 
would  have  burned  it  in  short  order.  And  its 
destruction  would  have  put  a  conclusive  quietus 
upon  the  Bristow-De  Boer  .attempt  to  buy  Janet's 
and  Marr's  mine.  To  be  sure,  there  was  nothing 
to  prevent  them  from  building  their  railroad  and 
developing  the  mining  properties  of  Bristow  and 
the  old  Mexican,  Crispo.  But  Farrand  cared  not 
a  fig  for  those  contingencies.  What  he  wanted 


MARK  HEARS  ENOUGH          175 

was  to  marry  Janet — provided  he  could  be  sure 
that  there  was  no  chance  of  her  having  to  part 
with  her  share  of  Aguacate  for  a  paltry  thirty- 
five  thousand  dollars. 

Farrand  drank  much  during  those  days  of 
worry;  and  now  the  situation  perplexed  him  more 
than  ever.  Janet  had  not  yet  given  him  her  an- 
swer, and  he  hesitated  to  urge  her  further,  but 
at  the  same  time  he  suffered  an  agony  of  appre- 
hension lest  she  should  someho^  learn  of  the  min- 
eral discovery.  If  Janet  stumbled  upon  that  news 
he  was  afraid  she  might  suspect  his  sudden  ardor. 
She  was  quick-witted,  he  knew;  and  Farrand  had 
a  wholesome  respect  for  the  intuition  of  women. 
At  least,  he  hoped  for  the  best;  and  incidentally 
he  carefully  kept  all  Mexican  newspapers  out  of 
the  way  of  his  guests.  There  was  no  knowing 
when  some  report  of  the  iron  find  might  appear 
in  the  daily  prints  from  Mexico  City. 

Despite  Pepe  Moreno's  assurance  that  he  could 
hide  Bristow  for  an  indefinite  time,  Farrand  felt 
less  secure  than  he  could  have  wished.  If  Pepe 
had  only  found  the  option  on  Bristow,  all  would 
have  been  clear  sailing.  Much  as  Farrand  dis- 
liked to  tell  Julian  Marr  that  the  coveted  docu- 
ment was  still  unrecovered,  nevertheless  he  was 


1 76   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

anxious  to  know  his  wily  chief's  opinion  of  the 
situation,  for  he  held  Marr's  judgment  in  great 
respect. 

"By  the  way,  what  do  you  suppose  has  actually 
become  of  that  chap  Bristow?"  Marr  asked  Far- 
rand,  that  first  night  after  his  return  from  Mexico 
City,  when  Farrand  had  persuaded  him  to  let 
Janet  bide  her  time,  on  the  plea  that  if  left  to 
herself  she  would  eventually  change  her  mind  with 
regard  to  selling  her  share  of  Aguacate.  "I  hope 
you  got  your  hands  on  that  confounded  option 
before  he  disappeared,"  he  continued,  before  Far- 
rand  had  answered  his  question. 

Wade  Farrand  shifted  uncomfortably  in  his 
chair. 

"I  haven't  been  able  to  locate  it  yet,"  he  ad- 
mitted reluctantly. 

"The  devil  you  haven't  1"  Marr  exploded. 
"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Farrand?  I  wired 
you  that  Cisneros  saw  the  contract,  didn't  I  ?  He 
saw  Bristow  put  it  back  in  his  pocket;  and  then 
the  fellow  came  straight  here.  I  thought  that  tip 
ought  to  be  enough  for  you.  Couldn't  you  get  the 
chap  drunk  ?  You  ought  to  be  able  to  do  that." 


MARR  HEARS  ENOUGH          177 

Farrand  ignored  the  insinuation  in  Marr's  last 
remark. 

"I  don't  think  Bristow  drinks,"  he  said.  "At 
least  I've  never  seen  him  take  anything." 

"Well — what  have  you  done,  anyhow?"  Marr 
pressed  him.  "Did  you  let  him  get  away  without 
even  making  a  try  for  that  contract?" 

"Oh,  I've  tried!"  Farrand  told  him.  "And 
since  I  couldn't  get  the  contract  I  did  the  next  best 
thing.  I  took  the  man  instead."  There  was  a 
hint  of  triumph  in  the  look  he  turned  on  his  chief. 

"What  good  is  that  going  to  do  us?"  Julian 
Marr  grunted.  "And  what  d'you  mean,  'took  the 
man'?" 

Farrand  was  accustomed  to  his  employer's  testi- 
ness.  Much  as  it  sometimes  rankled,  he  had  al- 
ways borne  it  patiently.  And  now  that  he  hoped 
to  turn  the  tables  on  Marr  before  they  saw  the 
finish  of  that  land  transaction  he  realized  that 
there  was  all  the  more  reason  why  he  could  afford 
to  submit  to  Marr's  snubs  without  showing  his 


rancor. 

1C 


Why — I've  got  a  bunch  of  peons  looking 
after  him  in  a  shack  in  the  bush,  about  twenty 
miles  from  aowfeere,"  he  explained. 


178   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"The  hell  you  have !"  exclaimed  Marr,  lapsing, 
in  his  surprise,  into  the  vernacular  of  his  youth, 
when  he  had  fought  his  way  upward  from  a 
navvy's  berth.  "What's  that  for?" 

"Well — my  men  nabbed  him  on  the  road  one 
night,  in  the  dark,  and  took  him  off  to  search  him. 
And  when  they  couldn't  find  what  I  wanted  they 
just  kept  him  there  and  came  back  to  report  to 
me.  .  .  .  And  I  told  'em  to  hold  the  goods  until 
they  received  shipping  instructions." 

Marr  shot  a  quick  glance  at  him  in  which  doubt 
and  admiration  mingled. 

"What'd  he  do  with  that  paper — eat  it?"  he 
demanded. 

"Search  me  I"  said  Farrand.  "He  must  have 
hidden  it  somewhere.  But  so  long  as  we  hang  on 
to  him  it's  obvious  he  can't  go  and  get  it  again. 
It  was  the  only  safe  thing  to  do,  it  seemed  to  me 
— to  keep  him  out  of  mischief  until  that  option 
expires." 

For  a  few  moments  Marr  smoked  in  silence. 

"Maybe  you're  right,"  he  vouchsafed  at  last. 
"If  your  plan  works  I'll  call  it  a  stroke  of  genius, 
Wade.  .  .  .  But  if  it  fails  you  may  get  yourself 
into  a  devil  of  a  pickle.  Mind!  this  is  none  of 
my  affair — this  kidnaping.  I  know  absolutely 


MARK  HEARS  ENOUGH 

nothing  about  it.  Getting  a  man  tight  is  one  thing 
— it's  done  every  day,  even  in  the  very  best  circles ; 
but  abduction,  my  dear  boy,  is  something  entirely 
different.  Naturally,  I  couldn't  sanction  such  an 
act." 

"Oh!  of  course  not!"  Farrand  agreed. 

"No,  indeed !  But  it's  not  my  fault  if  a  zealous 
employee  oversteps  his  authority  and  commits  a 
— well,  crime,  to  put  the  case  baldly.  I  wash 
my  hands  of  the  whole  affair.  Still,  if  it  turns  out 
all  right  perhaps  it  will  have  been  worth  your 
while  to  take  the  risk." 

"Oh!  it  will  turn  out  right  enough,"  Farrand 
declared  confidently.  If  he  did  not  mean  pre- 
cisely what  Marr  had  in  mind,  the  great  man  was 
none  the  wiser.  And  Farrand  permitted  himself  a 
self-satisfied  smile  as  he  pictured  Marr's  chagrin 
when  he  should  discover  that  he  had  Wade  Far- 
rand to  deal  with  in  that  mining  affair,  instead  of 
a  woman. 

In  the  course  of  Julian  Marr's  numerous  enter- 
prises in  lands  far  from  his  native  England  there 
had  been  many  little  incidents  to  which  he  had 
been  obliged  to  shut  his  eyes.  For  instance,  in 
the  case  of  the  concessions  that  he  owned  in  the 
Putumayo  rubber  country,  while  he  carefully 


i8o   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

scrutinized  his  companies'  financial  reports  he  was 
content  not  to  meddle  with  matters  touching  upon 
the  welfare  of  his  Indian  rubber-gatherers.  He 
had  seen  it  stated,  sometimes,  by  sensational 
writers,  that  their  condition  was  one  of  virtual 
slavery.  But  Marr  left  all  such  details  to  his  able 
young  men.  Perhaps  an  occasional  brutal  over- 
seer in  his  South  African  diamond  mine  lashed 
and  otherwise  maltreated  the  blacks  in  his  gang. 
But  Julian  Marr  hardly  thought  it  possible  that 
any  unnecessary  harshness  was  customary.  Even 
on  the  sugar-plantations  of  the  South  Eastern 
Railway  Company  it  happened  now  and  then — 
or  so  rumor  had  it — that  a  native  mayoral  had 
been  known  to  use  his  machete  on  an  insubordi- 
nate cane-cutter,  dexterously  splitting  him  open 
while  a  man  on  each  side  held  the  laborer  who 
had  been  so  impolitic  as  to  incite  his  companions 
to  demand  higher  pay.  Such  unfortunate  events, 
however,  seldom  came  to  Marr's  attention.  It 
was  understood  that  his  rough,  bluff  exterior  hid 
sensibilities  of  the  most  refined  sort — and  there 
was  no  use  wounding  his  feelings  needlessly.  Be- 
sides, he  would  certainly  never  have  sanctioned 
violence  of  any  sort.  But  being,  in  a  way,  of  a 
forgiving  nature,  he  had  been  known  to  overlook 


MARK  HEARS  ENOUGH          181 

such  crudeness  on  the  part  of  faithful  employees. 

Wade  Farrand,  consequently,  felt  little  uneasi- 
ness because  of  the  medieval  methods  he  had 
made  use  of  in  Bristow's  case.  He  trusted  to 
Marr's  generosity  to  condone  the  irregularity  of 
his  acts — provided  they  proved  successful. 

"I  think  everything  will  turn  out  well  in  the 
end,"  he  assured  Marr.  "I  have  some  pretty  com- 
petent men  working  for  me  in  this  affair. 
There's " 

"No,  no!"  Julian  Marr  protested.  "Not  an- 
other word!  I  don't  want  to  hear  anything 
more." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WHEN  THIEVES  FALL  OUT 

LUCKILY,  the  shot  Dick's  guard  fired  at  him  did 
no  damage.  He  had  intended  to  land  a  crushing 
blow  on  the  bandit's  jaw.  But  as  he  saw  the  fel- 
low clutch  at  his  revolver  Dick  dived  head  fore- 
most for  the  Cuban's  legs.  The  bullet  passed 
harmlessly  over  Mr.  Bristow's  back;  and  the  next 
instant  he  brought  down  his  man  in  a  flying  foot- 
ball tackle  that  would  have  done  the  most  exact- 
ing coach  a  world  of  good  to  see. 

Dick  had  remembered  the  maxim  of  the  force- 
ful gentleman  who  had  held  down  the  chair  of 
football  in  his  undergraduate  days:  "If  you  put  a 
man  out,  put  him  out  for  fair!"  And  accordingly 
he  had  thrown  every  ounce  of  his  hundred  and 
seventy  pounds  of  bone  and  muscle  into  that 
tackle.  As  the  Greaser  fell  backward  his  head 
crashed  into  the  hand-hewn  hardwood  post  that 
served  as  a  door-jamb  and  his  neck  doubled  up 

182 


WHEN  THIEVES  FALL  OUT      183 

like  so  much  rubber.  He  lay  limp  and  still  in  a 
heap  in  the  doorway.  And  as  Dick  quickly  slipped 
the  coveted  revolver  out  of  its  holster  he  thanked 
his  stars  for  having  had  a  college  education. 

Keeping  a  careful  eye  on  the  door  of  the  inner 
room,  where  the  remaining  three  brigands  had 
been  sleeping,  he  rolled  his  late  adversary  over  on 
his  back  and  unbuckled  his  cartridge-belt.  Then 
he  appropriated  the  fellow's  knife  and  machete  as 
well.  He  had  hardly  slipped  the  latter  upon  his 
own  belt  when  the  door  of  the  sleeping-room 
slowly  opened  until  a  tiny  crack  showed.  Dick's 
revolver  barked  sharply  as  he  threw  a  slug  into 
the  half-inch  planking.  It  was  almost  amusing — 
so  quickly  did  the  door  close  again.  He  could 
imagine  that  after  that  warning  the  three  cronies 
bottled  up  in  that  dark  box  would  think  twice  be- 
fore they  ventured  out.  So  long  as  he  stayed 
there  to  pot  them  he  hardly  thought  they  would 
attempt  to  escape  from  their  trap.  But  he  had 
no  desire  to  remain  in  that  locality.  He  wanted 
to  get  away  from  that  spot  in  the  shortest  order 
possible. 

Except  for  a  few  chairs,  there  was  little  mov- 
able furniture  in  the  room  that  he  could  pile 
against  the  door.  The  bench-like  table  that  sup- 


1 84   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

ported  the  charcoal  fire  would  have  served  his 
need  excellently;  but  unfortunately  its  legs  were 
firmly  planted  in  the  ground.  He  contrived,  how- 
ever, to  rig  up  a  makeshift  barricade,  composed 
of  chairs  wedged  between  the  end  of  the  heavy 
table  and  the  door  of  the  sleeping-box,  which 
opened  outward.  And  then,  after  picking  up  a 
saddle  and  bridle  from  a  corner  where  they  had 
been  flung,  he  tiptoed  out  of  the  house  and  ran 
lightly  to  the  small  corral  some  six  rods  distant. 

There  were  horses  there — he  had  seen  that 
much  from  the  doorway.  But  his  own  pony  had 
disappeared. 

It  was  irritating — the  way  those  horses  slunk 
away  from  him.  Several  times  he  almost  suc- 
ceeded in  laying  his  hand  on  the  mane  of  the  most 
docile — a  scrubby  bay  gelding,  with  ears  lopped 
over  from  ravages  of  ticks.  But  each  time  the 
rat-like  animal  slipped  out  of  his  grasp. 

He  had  wasted  several  precious  minutes  thus, 
before  he  remembered  that  there  was  a  lariat  tied 
to  the  saddle  he  had  taken.  With  the  aid  of  that 
he  soon  accomplished  his  purpose,  for  he  had  only 
to  fling  an  end  of  the  rope  across  the  back  of  the 
bay  to  bring  him  to  submission.  The  animal  both 
knew  and  feared  the  lariat,  which  had  caused  him 


WHEN  THIEVES  FALL  OUT      185 

many  a  cruel  fall  when  he  fought  it  in  his  more 
rebellious  youth. 

It  was  only  the  work  of  a  few  seconds  to  bridle 
the  horse  and  cinch  the  saddle  in  place.  And 
Dick  had  his  foot  in  the  stirrup  when  a  shot  rang 
out  and  reverberated  with  an  ominous  rattle  as  the 
forest  walls  caught  the  sound  and  tossed  it  back 
and  forth  across  the  clearing. 

Dick  ducked  instinctively  as  he  heard  the 
whistle  of  the  bullet  over  his  head.  And  as  he 
turned  he  saw  the  flash  of  another  shot  fired  from 
the  shelter  of  the  nearest  hut.  Exposed  as  he  was 
to  the  screened  attack  of  that  hidden  marksman, 
Dick  stood  not  upon  the  order  of  his  going.  He 
had  already  flung  open  the  gate  to  the  corral. 
And  once  in  the  saddle  he  sank  his  spurs  deep  into 
the  sides  of  his  mount. 

The  bay  pony  grunted  like  a  pig  as  Dick  drove 
the  rowels  home.  But  he  responded  gamely,  run- 
ning like  a  rabbit  across  the  clearing  toward  the 
opening  where  Dick  and  his  captors  had  emerged 
from  the  bush  the  night  before. 

A  hail  of  shots  crashed  out  as  Dick  made  his 
dash  for  freedom.  He  did  not  attempt  to  return 
the  fire,  but  crouched  like  a  jockey  as  he  urged 
his  pony  to  further  effort. 


i86  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

When  horse  and  rider  plunged  out  of  sight  into 
the  thicket  the  fusillade  ceased  abruptly.  Dick 
steadied  the  scrubby  bay  as  he  went  careening 
down  the  shaded  trail;  and  he  was  conscious  of  a 
feeling  of  fierce  exultation.  So  far  the  risk  had 
proved  worth  the  taking. 

The  shot  fired  by  the  Mexican  whom  Dick  had 
left  crumpled  in  the  doorway  had  both  awakened 
and  alarmed  his  three  friends.  One  of  them,  as 
it  chanced,  had  been  merely  dozing  and  for  him 
there  had  been  no  mistaking  the  report  of  the  re- 
volver. Hurriedly  they  crawled  out  of  their  ham- 
mocks and  waited,  silent,  in  absolute  darkness, 
with  ears  straining  to  catch  some  sound  that 
would  give  them  an  inkling  of  what  had  hap- 
pened. But  all  was  still  on  the  other  side  of  the 
closed  door. 

"Madre  de  Diosf"  one  of  them  whispered  at 
last,  his  nerves  all  but  breaking  under  the  stress. 
"Open  the  door,  some  one !  Let  us  see  what  this 
is  all  about." 

"Open  it  yourself,  Juan!"  the  voice  of  another 
snarled. 

"Son  of  a  dog!  Thou  art  afraid!"  the  first 
speaker  reproached  his  fellow. 


WHEN  THIEVES  FALL  OUT      187 

"My  skin  is  my  own,"  the  other  whined.  "If  I 
do  not  choose  to  have  it  filled  with  holes  it  is  my 
own  affair." 

And  for  the  time  being  not  one  of  them  could 
muster  enough  courage  to  peep  out. 

"I  believe,"  the  third  man  ventured,  after  a  few 
more  minutes  of  fruitless  waiting,  "I  believe 
Manuel  is  playing  a  joke  on  us." 

The  other  two  rascals  promptly  encouraged  him 
in  his  theory. 

"Open  the  door  a  bit,  Raphael,  and  look  out," 
the  man  whom  they  called  Juan  suggested. 

And  while  his  fellows,  whom  he  could  not  see, 
flattened  themselves  against  the  walls  of  the 
cramped  room,  as  far  out  of  range  as  possible, — 
while  they  skulked  out  of  danger  Raphael  lifted 
the  latch  and  pushed  the  door  open  ever  so 
slightly. 

It  was  then  that  Dick's  shot  effectually  nipped 
their  ambition  to  look  out  and  sent  the  optimistic 
peeper  scurrying  into  a  corner.  Then  they  heard 
a  thumping  and  scraping  against  the  door  (that 
was  when  Dick  built  his  barricade  against  it). 

There  they  crouched  for  a  time,  cursing  futilely 
under  their  breaths  until  at  length  one  enterpris- 
ing fellow  began  to  pry  at  the  siding  of  the  room 


1 88   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

with  his  machete.  He  quickly  loosened  one  of 
the  palm-boards  and  promptly  applied  his  eyes 
to  the  chink  through  which  the  daylight  streamed 
in.  As  luck  had  it  he  was  just  in  time  to  see  Dick 
running  towards  the  corral. 

The  imprisoned  Mexicans  immediately  grew 
bold.  And  all  three  threw  their  weight  upon  the 
door.  But  Dick  had  blocked  it  securely.  They 
set  to  work,  then,  with  their  machetes.  A  few 
minutes  of  wrenching  and  hacking  sufficed  to  yield 
an  opening  big  enough  for  them  to  squeeze 
through.  And  then  they  quickly  made  their  way 
behind  the  shelter  of  the  half-dozen  shacks  until 
they  had  reached  the  one  nearest  the  corral. 

It  was  a  crestfallen  trio  of  highwaymen  that 
returned  to  their  hut  after  their  quarry  had  van- 
ished down  the  forest  trail.  They  found  their 
friend  Manuel  lying  across  the  threshold,  just  as 
Dick  had  left  him.  The  way  in  which  his  head 
lopped  over  when  they  raised  him  in  their  arms 
told  them  what  his  difficulty  was — if  a  dead  man 
may  be  said  to  have  difficulties.  His  fall  against 
the  door-jamb  with  Dick's  weight  on  top  of  him 
had  broken  his  neck. 

They  let  him  drop  upon  the  dirt  floor  again. 


WHEN  THIEVES  FALL  OUT      189 

"He  has  nothing  to  fear  from  Fernandez,  any- 
how," the  man  Juan  said  callously,  as  he  spat 
across  the  body. 

At  the  mention  of  Fernandez's  name  the  other 
two  exchanged  a  look  of  apprehension. 

"Fernandez  will  be  like  a  wild  boar  when  he 
discovers  that  the  gringo  has  gone,"  Juan  warned 
them.  "And  it  is  all  your  fault,  Raphael,"  he  told 
the  man  who  had  tried  to  peep  through  the  door. 
"If  you  had  stayed  on  guard  with  Manuel  this 
would  never  have  happened.  .  .  .  What  are  you 
going  to  say  for  yourself?  Fernandez  and  Pepe 
will  know  that  the  three  of  us  were  asleep." 

Raphael  looked  at  him  dully. 

"Manuel  was  a  fool,"  he  said;  and  he  stirred 
the  dead  man  with  his  foot.  "No  one  but  an 
idiot  would  have  let  the  Yanqui  pig  get  the  better 
of  him.  .  .  .  For  Dios!  I  don't  know  just  what 
to  do  about  this." 

"I  have  it!"  Juan  exclaimed.  "It  is,  after  all,  a 
quite  simple  matter."  And  stepping  behind  his 
perplexed  friend  he  stuck  the  muzzle  of  his  re- 
volver against  his  back  and  pulled  the  trigger. 

Raphael  toppled  forward  upon  his  face.  See- 
ing that  he  stirred  slightly,  the  murderer  sent  an- 
other bullet  into  his  body. 


1 90   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"That  devil  of  a  gringo  would  have  killed  him, 
anyhow,  if  he  had  not  been  with  us,"  he  remarked 
to  his  companion  as  he  replaced  the  empty  shells 
in  his  revolver  with  fresh  ones  from  his  cart- 
ridge-belt. "As  it  is,  I  have  saved  Fernandez  the 
trouble. 

"And  now — vamosf  Let  us  leave  this  ac- 
cursed place.  I  have  no  wish  to  face  Fernandez 
when  he  returns,"  he  said.  "It  will  be  bad 
enough  later.  But  at  least  we  shall  be  able  to 
tell  him,  when  he  finds  us,  that  the  gringo  did  for 
both  these  fellows  while  you  and  I  were  sleeping." 

Great  as  their  hurry  was,  they  tarried  long 
enough  to  strip  the  two  dead  men  of  their  share 
of  the  money  they  had  stolen  from  the  departed 
prisoner. 


CHAPTER  XV 

PEPE  BRINGS  SOME  NEWS 

IN  spite  of  himself,  there  was  something  about 
that  piercing,  feminine  cry,  coming  as  it  did  out 
of  the  darkness,  that  set  De  Boer's  flesh  a-crawl. 
Instinctively  he  drew  the  automatic  from  his 
pocket;  and  he  remembered,  then,  that  he  had  a 
small  flash-lamp  too.  In  the  excitement  he  had 
completely  forgotten  it. 

As  he  played  the  comforting  shaft  of  light 
about  the  room  he  saw  that  he  and  the  man 
Ricardo  were  alone. 

"Where  is  Crispo?"  De  Boer  asked  him.  But 
Ricardo  did  not  answer.  He  was  too  intent  on 
opening  that  door  which  barred  the  way  to  the 
back  part  of  the  house.  "It  is  Rosita,"  he  panted 
as  he  tugged  violently  at  the  latch.  "Diablo! 
What  can  have  happened  to  her?" 

De  Boer  could  not  help  wondering,  as  well, 
what  was  going  to  happen  to  him,  when  the  door 

191 


192   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

suddenly  gave  way,  sending  Ricardo  sprawling 
upon  the  floor.  He  had  not  pulled  it  open,  how- 
ever. It  was  Crispo  who  had  unfastened  it  from 
the  other  side.  And  now  he  stood  over  the  thresh- 
old with  his  naked  machete  in  his  hand,  blinking 
in  the  spot-light  that  De  Boer  threw  upon  him. 
Picking  himself  up,  Ricardo  tried  to  push  past 
him. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  Crispo  demanded  of 
him,  effectually  blocking  the  way. 

"Rosita "  the  fellow  answered.  "I  want  to 

see  if  she  is  in  trouble." 

"She  has  not  been  harmed,"  Crispo  told  him. 
And  laying  a  lean  but  powerful  hand  on  Ricardo's 
shoulder  he  turned  him  about  like  a  child  and 
pushed  him  forward.  "Open  the  door !"  he  com- 
manded. "Let  us  go  in  peace  or  it  will  be  the 
worse  for  you." 

Ricardo  cringed  away  from  the  tall  country- 
man. He  was — as  he  knew — no  match  for  the 
vigorous  old  man. 

"One  moment,  senor!"  he  begged.  "Do  not  be 
in  a  hurry.  If  you  leave  my  house  now  you  will 
surely  be  seen.  And  I  do  not  know  what  Pepe 
Moreno  would  do  to  me  if  he  learned  that  you 
had  been  here.  Surely  you  would  not  wish  to 


PEPE  BRINGS  SOME  NEWS       193 

repay  my  kindness  and  that  of  Rosita  in  such  a 
fashion  ?  .  .  .  One  moment,  until  I  see  what  may 
be  done!" 

"Be  quick,  then!"  Crispo  ordered.  And  with 
that  Ricardo  approached  the  street  door. 

"Who  knocks?"  he  called  out. 

"A  friend!"  came  the  answer  in  Spanish. 

That  was  enough  for  Ricardo.  He  promptly 
invoked  the  aid  of  a  half-dozen  saints,  and — not 
to  make  invidious  discriminations — appealed  to 
the  devil  as  well. 

"It  is  Pepe  himself!"  he  told  the  others  in  an 
awestruck  whisper.  "What  can  I  do?" 

"Send  him  around  to  the  back  door,"  Crispo 
suggested. 

"But  there  is  some  one  else  there.  Who  it  is  I 
do  not  know." 

"What  matters  that?"  Crispo  asked  him.  "If 
they  quarrel  in  the  alley,  let  them  kill  each  other. 
Your  skin  will  be  whole." 

Since  he  could  think  of  no  move  more  feasible 
Ricardo  bade  Pepe  Moreno  the  barber  to  enter 
by  the  rear  door.  "This  one  is  closed  for  the 
night,  and  the  bar  sticks,"  he  added  by  way  of  a 
fine  touch  to  disarm  suspicion. 

They  heard  the  mestizo  grumble.    But  his  foot- 


1 94   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

steps,  ringing  upon  the  cobblestones,  soon  told 
them  that  he  had  gone.  And  after  waiting  until 
he  judged  the  coast  to  be  sufficiently  clear  Ricardo 
slipped  the  heavy  wooden  bar  from  out  its  sockets 
and  fairly  pushed  his  two  guests  into  the  street. 
He  was  in  a  hurry  to  bar  the  door  again.  And  he 
did  not  want  to  keep  Pepe  waiting. 

The  first  thing  the  rascally  barber  said  when 
Ricardo  at  last  admitted  him  was,  "Send  for  Senor 
Farrand  inmediatamente!" 

"It  is  not  necessary,"  Ricardo  told  him. 

"Not  necessary!  Do  as  I  tell  you,  you  fool! 

Here "  Pepe  turned  to  the  boy  who  had 

piloted  the  two  departed  guests — "run  at  once  to 
the  house  of  Senor  Farrand  and  say  to  him  that 
he  is  wanted  in  the  pueblo." 

"I  repeat,  it  is  needless,"  Ricardo  insisted,  "be- 
cause Senor  Farrand  is  already  here." 

It  was  true.  When  Ricardo  had  hurried  Crispo 
and  De  Boer  into  the  street  he  had  discovered  on 
his  return  to  the  rear  room  that  Rosita  had  al- 
ready opened  the  back  door  to  him  who  had  first 
knocked.  And  the  caller  was  Farrand. 

When  Crispo  left  the  girl  he  had  told  her  that 
he  intended  making  his  exit  by  way  of  the  street 


PEPE  BRINGS  SOME  NEWS       195 

— for  he  had  preferred  to  take  his  chances  in  the 
open  rather  than  in  the  cramped  passage  through 
which  they  had  reached  the  house.  He  had  no 
sooner  disappeared  than  Rosita  admitted  the  im- 
patient caller  who  had  also  approached  by  way 
of  the  alley. 

"Well,  Rosita,  don't  you  want  to  see  me?"  Far- 
rand  asked  her  as  he  entered.  "You've  kept  me 
waiting  long  enough,  I  should  think,"  he  grum- 
bled. , 

"I  did  not  know  who  it  was,"  she  protested. 
"I  did  not  dream  it  was  you  who  knocked." 

And  then  Ricardo  returned,  to  stare  open- 
mouthed  for  a  moment  at  the  newcomer.  Events 
were  happening  almost  too  fast  for  him  to  grasp. 
Rosita  and  her  caller  had  passed  on  into  an  ad- 
joining room.  And  now,  as  Pepe  questioned  him, 
Ricardo  nodded  in  the  direction  in  which  they  had 
vanished. 

"He  is  with  Rosita,"  he  explained. 

"I  must  see  him  at  once,"  Pepe  said,  and  he 
pushed  through  the  door  without  so  much  as  a 
tap  on  it.  His  first  glance  at  the  bandit  barber 
told  Farrand  that  something  was  amiss. 

"What  is  it,  Pepe?"  he  asked.  "What's  hap- 
pened?" 


196  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"The  gringo  has  escaped,"  Pepe  answered 
breathlessly. 

"The  devil  he  has!"  Farrand  cried  in  dismay. 
"How  could  that  have  come  about?  He  must 
have  bribed  the  fellows  you  left  with  him." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  crestfallen  Pepe.  "He 
killed  two  of  them.  And  the  others  are  gone." 

Farrand  regarded  him  with  some  suspicion. 
He  wondered  whether  his  lieutenant  might  not 
have  taken  pay  from  Bristow  as  well  as  himself. 

"When  did  all  this  occur?"  he  inquired. 

"Three  days  ago,  perhaps — I  am  not  sure," 
the  mestizo  replied.  "I  only  know  that  I  returned 
to  the  clearing  yesterday  and  found  no  living  per- 
son in  the  place.  Manuel  and  Raphael  were 
there,  to  be  sure — what  was  left  of  them.  The 
buzzards  had  been  there  before  me." 

"But  I  thought  you  were  going  back  at  once 
when  you  left  here  five  days  ago,"  Farrand  inter- 
posed coldly.  "I  should  like  to  know  where  you 
have  been  all  this  time." 

Like  most  of  his  race,  Pepe  was  instantly  ready 
with  an  excuse. 

"Fernandez  wanted  to  see  his  brother,  who 
lives  in  San  Pedro.  .  .  .  The  village  was  not  more 


PEPE  BRINGS  SOME  NEWS       197 

than  two  leagues  out  of  our  way.  We  went  there. 
The  people  were  going  to  have  a  pig-roast  the 
next  day.  .  .  .  And  the  day  after  that  was  Fer- 
nandez's saint's  day — his  name  is  Jose,  you  know. 
So  we  stayed  for  a  feast  in  his  honor.  With  four 
men  to  guard  him  the  gringo  should  never  have 
escaped.  It  is  a  marvel  that  he  got  away.  I  do 
not  understand  it." 

Farrand  had  listened  to  the  plausible  recital 
with  ill-contained  impatience. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  since  you  discov- 
ered the  bird  had  flown?"  he  asked  Pepe. 

"Hunting  for  him !  Fernandez  and  I  have  not 
been  out  of  the  saddle  except  for  a  few  hours' 
sleep — and  to  take  coffee  now  and  then.  I  have 
eaten  almost  nothing  in  two  days,  senor,"  the  bar- 
ber whined,  laying  an  eloquent  hand  across  his 
stomach. 

Farrand  gave  a  grunt  of  impatience. 

"Get  him  something  to  eat,  Ricardo,"  he  said 
to  the  listening  Mexican.  "No  doubt  you  ate 
enough  pig  to  last  you  at  least  a  week,"  he  ob- 
served sarcastically,  as  he  turned  to  Pepe  again. 
"And  pulque,  too — I  suppose  you  fellows  swilled 
enough  of  that  to  waterlog  you." 


198    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"You  are  mistaken,"  Pepe  told  him  sullenly. 
"We  never  get  drunk — Fernandez  and  I,"  he 
lied.  "We  are  not  gringos." 

"You've  muddled  this  business,  anyhow,"  Far- 
rand  retorted.  "But  eat,  now,  for  you've  no  time 
to  fool  away.  You're  going  straight  back  to-night 
where  you  came  from.  And  I  expect  you  to  find 
Bristow.  You  may  tell  Fernandez  for  me  that 
he's  a  false  alarm  as  a  bandit  if  he  can't  do  any 
better  than  this.  I  begin  to  think  Bristow  bought 
you  both  off." 

Pepe  looked  at  his  tormentor  darkly. 

"It  is  not  so.  I  am  an  honest  man,"  he  de- 
dared.  "Never  have  I  broken  faith  with  a 
friend."  He  seated  himself  at  the  table  then  and 
began  to  eat  noisily  of  the  food  that  Ricardo  had 
brought  for  him. 

Farrand,  meanwhile,  rejoined  Rosita.  He  had 
thought,  of  late,  that  he  had  noted  signs  of  jeal- 
ousy in  her.  She  had  questioned  him  somewhat 
sharply  about  the  American  girl  with  whom  he 
was  so  often  seen  riding.  And  just  then  Farrand 
deemed  it  the  part  of  wisdom  to  placate  Rosita  by 
more  frequent  visits  than  he  had  honored  her  with 
during  the  weeks  immediately  preceding.  She  was 
decidedly  too  familiar  with  his  affairs  to  make  her 


PEPE  BRINGS  SOME  NEWS       199 

enmity  desirable.  When  the  proper  time  came  he 
knew  of  ways  in  which  he  could  rid  himself  of  her. 
But  for  the  present  he  felt  that  he  must  retain  her 
good  will. 

Farrand  had  not  dreamed  of  the  extent  to  which 
Rosita's  vindictive  nature  was  already  aroused. 
While  he  talked  to  her  fatuously  she  contrived  to 
conceal  from  him  the  resentment  that  consumed 
her.  And  all  the  time  she  plied  him  guardedly 
with  questions  concerning  Bristow's  disappear- 
ance. She  had  long  since  guessed  that  in  some 
way  Farrand's  scheming  against  Dick  involved  his 
relations  with  the  American  girl.  Farrand's  prod- 
igal consumption  of  spirits  had  occasionally  loos- 
ened his  tongue  to  an  undue  extent.  And  at  such 
times  Rosita  had  made  the  most  of  her  oppor- 
tunities. She  knew  vastly  more  than  he  suspected. 
And  while  he  sought  to  further  his  plot,  she  did 
everything  she  could  to  block  his  moves,  on  the 
well-taken  ground  that  even  though  her  efforts 
might  do  her  own  cause  no  good,  at  least  they 
could  scarcely  work  her  any  harm. 

Later,  when  Pepe  had  bolted  his  meal,  Farrand 
told  him  that  the  rurales  were  preparing  to  take 
the  field  the  next  morning. 


200   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"They're  going  after  Bristow,  and  Fernandez 
too,"  he  explained. 

"Fernandez!"  Pepe  laughed.  "You  know  as 
well  as  I  do  how  anxious  the  rurales  are  to  find 
him." 

"Yes !  But  what  about  the  American?  Do  you 
intend  to  let  them  rescue  him  ?  .  .  .  Go  back  and 
tell  Fernandez  that  I  want  you  two  hombres  to 
get  him!" 

"Dead  or  alive?"  Pepe  inquired,  as  casually  as 
he  might  have  asked  whether  Farrand  preferred 
cigarettes  of  rice  paper  or  pectoral. 

"Get  him!"  Farrand  cried.  "Do  I  need  tell 
you  more?" 

"Why  not  rout  out  the  captain  of  the  guards 
and  have  him  nab  that  fellow  who  was  at  the 
front  door?"  De  Boer  suggested  to  Crispo  as 
they  hurried  away  from  Ricardo's  house. 

"Pepe  Moreno?  It  would  be  useless,"  Crispo 
said.  "What  evidence  have  we  against  him?" 

"There's  the  girl,"  De  Boer  reminded  him. 

But  Crispo  did  not  appear  to  consider  her  a 
creditable  witness.  In  the  first  place,  Rosita  was 
a  woman ;  and  in  the  second,  her  status  in  society 
was  hardly  such  as  to  cause  a  judge  to  weigh  her 


PEPE  BRINGS  SOME  NEWS       201 

words  carefully.  "Besides,"  Crispo  said,  "she 
would  not  dare  testify  against  that  fellow  Pepe." 
And  he  explained  to  De  Boer  that  the  natives 
were  generally  averse  to  calling  down  upon  their 
heads  the  ill-will  of  the  bandit  fraternity.  "There 
would  be  a  drawback  for  us,  too,  if  she  did  testify 
against  Pepe,"  Crispo  added. 

"What's  that?"  De  Boer  inquired. 

"Why — they've  a  hostage — Bristow,"  he  ex- 
plained. "If  the  girl  denounced  Pepe  Moreno  and 
we  had  him  thrown  into  jail,  just  as  likely  as  not 
Fernandez  would  take  revenge  on  Bristow. 
That's  the  customary  thing  to  do,  in  such  an 
event." 

De  Boer  could  not  but  recognize  the  force  of 
the  old  man's  argument.  But  he  felt  at  the  same 
time  that  they  ought  to  take  some  advantage  of 
the  information  they  had  just  obtained. 

"Why  not  set  a  watch  on  that  house,"  he 
asked,  "and  then  follow  Pepe  when  he  leaves 
it?" 

Jose  Crispo  shook  his  head. 

"That  would  be  of  no  use  at  all — none  at  all," 
he  declared.  "He  would  soon  discover  that  he 
was  followed  and  would  not  return  to  the  place 
where  they  have  taken  Bristow." 


202   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"I  don't  see  that  our  call  amounted  to  much," 
De  Boer  observed.  He  was  disgusted  with 
everything  and  everybody — with  Rosita  for  not 
telling  them  more,  with  the  fact  that  an  ignorant 
barber  balked  them,  with  Crispo's  objections,  with 
himself  for  listening  to  them.  "We  might  as  well 
have  gone  to  bed  an  hour  ago,"  he  grumbled,  "for 
all  the  good  that  Rosita  has  done  us." 

"I  found  out  something  while  you  were  alone 
with  Ricardo  in  the  front  room,"  Crispo  said 
drily.  "You  heard  the  girl  scream?" 

"Yes!" 

"That  was  when  I  twisted  her  arm,"  Crispo 
said  grimly.  "I  thought  she  knew  more  than  she 
told  us.  I  thought  that  if  I  could  get  her  alone 
for  a  few  minutes  I'd  learn  more.  That's  why  I 
locked  you  and  Ricardo  into  the  front  room.  .  .  . 
The  boy  was  still  with  us — with  me  and  the  girl — 
but  he  was  nothing  to  manage.  Ricardo  might 
have  proved  troublesome,  and  I  did  not  wish  to 
hurt  him,  so  I  locked  him  out. 

"I  did  not  have  to  twist  the  muchacha's  arm 
long  before  she  was  ready  to  talk,"  Crispo  re- 
marked with  a  chuckle.  "And  now  I  know  where 
Bristow  is.  They  have  hidden  him  in  an  old  brava 


PEPE  BRINGS  SOME  NEWS       203 

on  a  ranch  known  as  La  Caridad.  It  is  not  more 
than  three  hours'  ride  from  my  place." 

De  Boer  was  overjoyed  at  the  news.  But  one 
thing  puzzled  him. 

"Why  did  the  girl  send  for  us  to  tell  us  only 
part  of  what  she  knew?"  he  asked  Crispo.  "Why 
should  she  want  to  see  us  at  all  ?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  Crispo  replied.  "She  is  a 
woman.  And  one  can  never  tell  what  moves 
women.  .  .  .  She  is  up  to  some  deviltry.  She 
may  have  a  grudge  against  Pepe." 

"But  why  didn't  she  tell  us  more  ?  Why  should 
she  tell  only  half  what  she  knew?" 

Crispo  himself  was  hazy  on  that  question. 

"Perhaps  she  only  wanted  to  alarm  Pepe  and 
Fernandez  by  sending  us  in  the  neighborhood  of 
their  hiding  place,  without  letting  us  know  enough 
to  find  the  exact  spot  where  they  are  keeping 
Bristow."  Rosita's  motives  did  not  bother  Crispo 
at  all.  He  was  too  much  the  thoroughgoing  Mex- 
ican to  give  thought  to  the  mental  processes  of  so 
unimportant  a  creature  as  a  mere  woman.  He  be- 
lieved the  sex  to  be  capricious,  unreasoning, 
stupid — incapable,  in  fact,  of  any  action  more  en- 
terprising than  sitting  behind  a  curtained  window 


4 

204  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

and  plying  a  fan  and  eating  sweets.  It  was  enough 
for  him  to  know  that  his  course  upon  the  morrow 
lay  clear  before  him. 

When  morning  came  the  captain  of  the  rural 
guards  declined  absolutely  to  lead  his  men  with 
Crispo  and  De  Boer  to  the  clearing  that  Rosita 
had  described. 

"Why  do  you  think  the  Americano  has  been 
taken  there?"  he  asked. 

But  they  could  not  answer  him.  Rosita  had 
enjoined  secrecy  upon  them. 

"I  cannot  act  upon  a  mere  whim,"  the  captain 

pointed  out  to  them.  "I  have  here "  he  pulled 

out  his  notebook — "I  have  here  a  number  of  ex- 
cellent clues.  But  where  do  you  get  your  informa- 
tion? Our  friend  Crispo  has  had  a  dream  last 
night — no?"  The  captain  laughed  pleasantly. 
There  was  a  reason  why  he  could  afford  to  be 
agreeable.  He  knew  perfectly  well  that  Crispo 
was  on  the  right  track.  He  knew  where  Bristow 
was  hidden ;  and  he  had  not  the  slightest  intention 
of  going  anywhere  near  the  spot. 

De  Boer  and  Crispo  soon  saw  that  they  had 
nothing  to  hope  for  from  el  capitdn. 

"All  right!"  De  Boer  told  him.     "Go  ahead 


PEPE  BRINGS  SOME  NEWS       205 

with  your  search  in  your  own  way.    But  excuse  us, 
please,  if  we  do  not  accompany  you." 

The  captain  returned  to  barracks  then,  to  give 
his  men  their  final  instructions.  And  he  had  not 
been  gone  fifteen  minutes  before  Crispo  and  De 
Boer  mounted  their  horses  and  started  for  the  old 
Mexican's  house.  Jose  Crispo  preferred  to  or- 
ganize his  own  searching  party  among  his  own 
people. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

LOST  IN  THE  BUSH 

As  Dick  fled  down  the  forest-trail,  after  his  escape 
from  his  captors,  he  pushed  the  lop-eared  bay  to 
the  limit  of  his  speed.  There  were  two  reasons 
why  he  was  in  a  hurry  to  reach  the  end  of  that 
trail  through  the  bush.  He  had  no  cause  to  sup- 
pose that  his  guards  would  not  pursue  him.  And 
moreover  he  faced  the  disconcerting  possibility 
that  he  might  meet  Fernandez  and  Pepe  at  any 
moment,  returning  to  the  clearing.  Dick  had  no 
desire  to  be  caught  between  two  fires.  And  if  he 
should  be  trapped  in  that  fashion  he  knew  that  to 
plunge  into  the  thicket  would  serve  only  to  pro- 
long the  game  of  hide-and-seek.  In  the  end  he 
must  surely  be  overtaken,  for  the  Mexicans  were 
all  expert  woodsmen,  while  he  was  a  mere  novice. 
He  was  not  aware  that  certain  details — such  as 
two  dead  men  and  the  division  of  their  booty — 
prevented  pursuit;  nor  did  he  know  that  Fernan- 
dez and  Pepe  were  miles  away,  lulled  into  a  false 

206 


LOST  IN  THE  BUSH  207 

sense  of  security  by  their  mistaken  confidence  in 
the  strength  of  the  party  they  had  left  behind 
to  guard  their  prisoner. 

Ordinarily  Dick  would  have  ridden  slowly  at 
the  beginning  of  a  journey,  to  let  his  horse  warm 
gradually  to  his  work.  But  the  present  situation 
demanded  haste;  and  he  had  learned  from  expe- 
rience that  even  the  scrubbiest  of  the  Mexican 
horses  were  remarkably  enduring.  So  he  spurred 
on,  with  ears  alert  for  the  sound  of  hoof-beats 
behind  him. 

There  was  another  problem  besides  that  of  re- 
capture that  confronted  him.  He  had  not  the 
slightest  idea  where  he  was;  and  he  wanted,  as 
soon  as  possible,  to  get  his  bearings  and  make  for 
some  point  where  he  might  be  sure  of  friendly 
shelter.  One  thing,  at  least,  he  could  tell  from 
the  slanting  shadows  which  the  tree-tops  flung 
across  the  trail.  The  early  sun  was  upon  his  right 
and  he  was  therefore  traveling  northward.  That 
was  as  he  wished  it,  because  that  way  lay  civiliza- 
tion. He  knew  that  upon  his  right  stretched  the 
East  Coast,  harborless  because  of  the  shallow 
sounds  between  the  shore  and  the  coral  keys,  and 
hence  but  sparsely  settled.  Once  he  won  clear 
of  that  narrow  trail  he  would  gladly  take  his 


208    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

chances  in  a  running  fight  in  open  country.  And 
so  he  did  not  spare  his  horse.  After  he  emerged 
from  the  bush  he  intended  to  give  him  a  breathing 
spell. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  he  saw  with 
dismay  that  his  undersized  mount  was  beginning 
to  lag.  He  seemed  to  have  spent  himself  in  that 
first  quick  spurt  and  he  no  longer  responded  to 
the  spur.  On  the  contrary,  he  soon  slowed  down 
to  a  mere  lope,  with  head  hung  low  and  his  breath 
coming  in  great  gasps.  Dick  pulled  him  up  then 
and  dismounted.  There  was  blood  trickling  down 
the  pony's  hind  legs.  And  as  the  brute  stood 
wearily  in  the  middle  of  the  trail  more  blood 
dripped  from  his  belly  and  formed  a  bright  pool 
upon  the  ground.  He  had  been  hit  during  that 
dash  across  the  clearing  and  Dick  reproached  him- 
self for  having  punished  him  so  severely.  His 
spurs  were  red,  too — mute  witnesses  to  his  unin- 
tentional cruelty. 

He  removed  saddle  and  bridle  from  the 
wounded  animal.  And  despite  the  knowledge  that 
he  might  have  need  of  every  cartridge  he  pos- 
sessed humanity  prompted  him  to  send  a  shot 
crashing  into  the  pony's  brain.  He  did  not  want 
to  leave  the  poor  beast  to  suffer  needlessly. 


LOST  IN  THE  BUSH  209 

As  he  fired  the  pony  sank  in  his  tracks.  And 
then,  after  walking  a  few  rods,  Dick  hid  the  heavy 
Texas  saddle  and  the  bridle  near  a  great  tree. 
Then  he  hurried  on  again,  ready  to  jump  into 
the  tangle  on  either  side  of  him  at  the  first  hint 
of  danger. 

He  had  not  gone  far  before  the  trail  forked. 
There  was  nothing  to  choose  between  the  two 
paths,  so  far  as  their  appearance  went.  Neither 
was  more  traveled  than  the  other.  So  Dick  took 
the  one  that  seemed  to  hold  to  the  more  westerly 
course. 

That  fork  proved  to  be  only  the  first  of  any 
number  of  similar  divergencies.  And  as  he  forged 
on,  Dick  soon  found  the  trail  twisting  and  turning 
in  a  most  bewildering  fashion.  Sometimes  the 
tree-tops,  meeting  above  his  head  in  a  tangle  of 
vines  and  streamers  of  Spanish  moss,  made  it  im- 
possible for  him  to  determine  even  vaguely  the 
general  direction  in  which  he  was  wandering. 
And  as  the  morning  sped  it  became  increasingly 
difficult  to  judge  the  points  of  the  compass,  even 
where  the  forest  was  less  dense,  for  in  that  south- 
ern country  the  sun  mounts  high  in  the  heavens. 

At  last,  to  his  relief,  the  trail  brought  him  to  a 
savannah — an  old,  disused  pasture,  sprinkled  with 


210  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

palmettos.  Numerous  paths  could  still  be  dis- 
cerned there,  reaching  out  in  a  haphazard  fashion 
from  the  forest  opening  across  the  level  stretch 
of  wiry  bunch  grass,  as  if  they  had  been  worn  by 
aimlessly  wandering  cattle.  Dick  followed  one  of 
them  at  random.  He  was  glad  to  get  out  of  the 
bush.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  breathe 
more  easily  now  that  he  was  no  longer  hemmed  in 
by  the  living  walls  of  tree  and  vine  and  scrub 
growth.  A  light  breeze  swept  refreshingly  over 
the  natural  clearing — a  welcome  breeze,  because 
the  sun  beat  down  with  a  tropic  fierceness  and 
Dick  was  both  hungry  and  thirsty.  He  had  had 
nothing  to  eat  or  drink  since  that  meal  that  had 
followed  his  arrival  at  the  shack,  in  the  small 
hours.  It  was  not  long  before  he  had  crossed  the 
pasture.  And  following  along  the  edge  of  the 
bush  Dick  plunged  once  more  into  a  partially  over- 
grown bridle-path  which  appeared  to  stretch 
toward  the  north.  He  was  glad,  then,  that  he  had 
taken  Manuel's  machete,  along  with  his  revolver 
and  his  knife,  for  he  had  to  wield  the  swordlike 
weapon  almost  constantly  to  cut  his  way  through 
the  tangle  that  choked  the  old  trail.  As  it  was, 
his  clothes  were  soon  rent  in  a  dozen  places  by 
wait-a-bit  vines — tough  briars  with  stout,  curved 


LOST  IN  THE  BUSH  211 

thorns  which  menace  the  hurried  wayfarer  along 
little-used  paths. 

In  spite  of  the  shade  it  was  stifling  hot  in  the 
cover  of  the  thicket,  where  no  breath  of  air 
stirred;  and  what  with  the  heat  and  the  work  of 
clearing  the  trail — for  Dick  was  far  from  skilled 
in  the  use  of  the  machete — he  found  himself  in 
distress  from  thirst.  From  the  waist  up  his 
clothes  were  dark  with  sweat  and  he  was  bleeding 
from  a  score  of  scratches.  At  last  he  came  to  a 
lemon  tree,  growing  by  the  side  of  the  trail.  He 
sucked  eagerly  on  the  sour,  stunted  fruit,  no  bigger 
than  crab-apples.  It  was  wonderfully  refreshing. 
And  after  filling  his  pockets  with  more  of  the 
lemons  he  pressed  on  again. 

At  best  he  made  but  slow  progress  through  the 
tangle.  And  though  he  had  been  working  for  a 
considerable  time  he  had  not  in  reality  gone  much 
further  before  he  caught  the  sound  of  something 
stirring  in  the  underbrush  ahead  of  him.  He  stood 
still  and  listened.  And  soon  an  unmistakable  grunt- 
ing told  him  what  the  noise  was.  Wild  pigs !  There 
was  nothing  else  that  could  be  responsible  for  those 
squealing  grunts.  Dropping  the  machete  into  its 
scabbard,  Dick  drew  his  revolver  and  began  creep- 
ing forward  upon  his  hands  and  knees.  He  had 


212   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

wormed  his  way  along  a  distance  of  two  or  three 
rods  when  he  came  upon  a  sight  that  was  no  less 
welcome  to  him  than  the  lemon  tree  itself.  Be- 
neath a  huge  algaroba  tree  an  old  sow  and  four 
young  were  gobbling  up  the  beanlike  pods  which 
had  fallen  upon  the  ground.  Dick  drew  a  bead 
on  one  of  the  pigs  and  fired. 

He  waited  for  a  few  moments  after  the  shot. 
He  had  made  a  kill — he  could  see  that  much;  and 
the  sow  and  the  remaining  pigs  had  vanished. 
But  Dick  knew  that  there  was  a  chance  of  his 
being  charged  by  the  boar  if  he  were  near  at 
hand.  The  protector  of  the  family,  however, 
failed  to  put  in  his  appearance.  And  soon  Dick 
pushed  forward  and  picked  up  his  prize.  The 
pig  was  a  fat  one.  And  Mr.  Bristow  felt  uncom- 
monly hungry.  But  before  making  his  prepara- 
tions for  a  meal  he  reflected  that  the  presence  of 
the  pigs  must  mean  that  there  was  water  not  far 
away.  So  he  slung  the  game  across  his  back  by 
means  of  a  piece  of  tough  vine  and  returned  to 
his  task  of  opening  up  the  old  path. 

Within  half  an  hour  his  assumption  proved  cor- 
rect. Even  before  he  could  hear  the  trickle  of 
water  he  could  see  ahead  of  him  the  gently  wav- 
ing tops  of  a  clump  of  royal  palms,  the  plumes  of 


LOST  IN  THE  BUSH  213 

which  lifted  themselves  high  above  the  more 
plebeian  cedar  and  mahogany.  Palms,  as  Dick 
was  aware,  usually  fringe  the  banks  of  streams. 
And  shortly  he  came  upon  a  small  brook  that  cut 
directly  across  the  trail. 

Dick  did  not  wait  even  to  slip  the  pig  off  his 
back.  He  threw  himself  down  and  with  arms 
plunged  into  the  water  up  to  his  shoulders  he 
drank  deeply.  When  he  rose,  dripping,  to  his  feet 
again  the  world  assumed  a  much  more  smiling 
aspect.  In  a  few  minutes  a  fire  blazed  on  the 
border  of  the  stream.  And  with  the  aid  of  the 
long  knife  he  had  taken  from  the  man  in  the  hut 
Dick  proceeded  to  carve  some  tidbits  off  his 
trophy.  It  was  not  long  before  they  were  sizzling 
pleasantly  over  the  embers. 

Except  for  its  lack  of  salt  the  broiled  meat  was 
palatable  enough.  Dick  knew  that  the  natives, 
given  a  little  more  time,  and  some  sort  of  dish, 
would  have  contrived  to  extract  salt  from  the 
palms.  Long  necessity  during  the  wars  that  have 
swept  Mexico  has  made  its  inhabitants  past  mas- 
ters in  the  art  of  living  off  the  country.  But  as  it 
was,  Dick  was  thankful  enough  for  his  impromptu 
meal  to  refrain  from  being  overcritical.  A  cig- 
arette from  his  half-empty  pack  supplied  all  that 


2i4   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

he  felt  he  had  any  right — or  reason — to  wish  for 
in  the  way  of  luxuries. 

As  he  rested,  smoking,  he  deliberated  as  to  his 
next  move.  There  had  not  been  the  least  sign  of 
pursuit  on  the  part  of  his  erstwhile  captors  and 
there  seemed  small  grounds  for  supposing  that 
they  would  ever  succeed  in  following  him  now. 
But  the  problem  of  reaching  assistance  still  faced 
him.  He  had  no  desire  to  spend  days,  perhaps,  in 
roaming  through  the  wilderness,  trusting  mean- 
while to  luck  to  find  something  to  eat.  He  knew 
that  he  should  not  starve,  in  any  event,  so  long  as 
his  ammunition  lasted,  for  there  was  always  game 
of  some  sort  to  be  shot. 

He  was  lost — there  was  no  denying  that  fact. 
But  fortunately  he  was  free  from  that  unreason- 
ing terror  which  often  seizes  even  the  strongest 
men  who  have  become  confused  in  a  strange  and 
unsettled  country.  As  he  rested  by  the  brook  it 
occurred  to  him  that  the  stream  offered  a  way  out 
for  him.  By  following  it  he  must  eventually  come 
to  the  river  which  received  its  waters  and  car- 
ried them  to  the  coast,  where  he  might  find  him- 
self marooned  in  a  maze  of  swamps,  far  from  any 
human  being. 

As  he  studied  the  situation  he  could  not  help 


LOST  IN  THE  BUSH  215 

admitting  that  his  progress  through  the  bush  was 
discouragingly  slow.  The  natives,  accustomed 
from  childhood  to  swinging  the  machete,  knew 
how  to  take  every  advantage  of  the  weight  of  the 
blade.  Their  skill  enabled  them  to  cut  their  way 
through  the  most  difficult  country  so  deftly  that 
they  could  proceed  at  a  rapid  walk.  But  Dick's 
was  only  a  snail's  pace.  It  was  grueling  work,  too, 
for  a  Northerner,  in  that  heat.  And  the  chill 
that  was  almost  certain  to  descend  with  nightfall 
meant  suffering,  if  not  actual  danger,  to  a  man  in 
sweat-sodden  garments  and  without  blankets. 

Dick  reflected  that  he  could  travel  fast  along 
the  half-empty  bed  of  the  brook.  The  rivers,  too, 
were  at  their  lowest  at  that  season.  And  in  the 
end  Dick  decided  to  take  his  chances  on  follow- 
ing the  stream.  Not  the  least  of  the  advantages 
it  offered  consisted  in  its  ever  present  supply  of 
water  for  a  thirsty  pedestrian. 

Before  setting  out  again  he  wrapped  up  a  sup- 
ply of  pork  as  best  he  could  and  stowed  it  in  his 
pockets.  And  then  he  was  off  downstream,  splash- 
ing through  pools,  scrambling  over  rocks,  and 
sometimes  jogging  at  a  dog-trot  over  smooth 
stretches.  After  his  heartbreaking  work  with  the 
machete  the  going  was  actually  inspiring. 


216   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

As  he  reeled  off  mile  after  mile  the  little  brook 
grew  steadily  until  by  mid-afternoon  its  bed  had 
become  an  arroyo  of  considerable  size.  There 
was  not  much  water  in  it,  however.  But  its  high 
banks  told  that  when  the  spring  rains  came  it 
would  swell  rapidly  into  a  torrent. 

All  at  once  as  he  rounded  a  bend  in  the  river 
Dick  saw  a  low  building  set  not  far  back  from 
one  of  the  banks.  It  was  the  first  sign  of  life  he 
had  come  across.  But  even  that  soon  proved  dis- 
appointing. The  hut  was  deserted.  Charcoal 
burners  had  once  used  it — the  remains  of  a  pit 
nearby  told  him  that  much.  The  tumble-down 
shack  was  innocent  of  any  sort  of  contents;  but 
at  least  it  offered  a  shelter  for  the  night.  And 
rather  than  push  on  and  find  himself  caught  by 
darkness  and  forced  to  lie  under  the  stars  he  de« 
cided  to  rest  there  until  morning.  The  next  day, 
he  hoped,  would  bring  him  to  some  inhabited 
dwelling. 

As  the  day  waned  he  explored  his  immediate 
surroundings.  It  seemed  unlikely  that  any  one 
would  come  many  miles  from  some  hamlet- — or 
even  an  isolated  house — to  burn  charcoal.  And  at 
last  Dick  stumbled  upon  the  distinct  traces  of  an 
old  trail,  in  much  the  same  condition  as  the  one 


LOST  IN  THE  BUSH  217 

in  which  he  had  shot  the  pig,  which  he  thought 
might  lead  him  to  humans.  And  he  resolved  to 
begin  hacking  his  way  through  it  as  soon  as  it 
should  grow  light  the  following  morning. 

Stretched  as  he  was  on  the  dirt  floor  of  the 
hut,  without  covering  of  any  sort  other  than  the 
clothes  he  was  wearing,  Dick  found  that  night  to 
be  the  longest  he  had  ever  passed.  He  was  so 
fagged  that  the  cold  did  not  keep  him  wholly 
awake ;  but  it  effectually  prevented  his  falling  into 
anything  more  than  a  fitful  doze,  during  which 
he  was  all  the  time  conscious  of  the  penetrating 
chill,  which  seemed  to  reach  the  very  marrow  of 
his  bones.  At  last  he  could  stand  the  discom- 
fort no  longer.  It  was,  indeed,  bordering  on 
actual  torture.  So  he  built  another  fire  of  wood 
that  he  had  collected  the  evening  before;  and 
then  he  slipped  down  the  bank  of  the  river,  which 
glistened  where  the  moon  found  it.  It  was  colder 
than  ever  there;  and  he  shivered,  in  spite  of  the 
exercise,  as  he  picked  up  some  sizable  stones  and 
carried  them  to  his  fire  in  front  of  the  shack. 
Necessity  had  at  length  jogged  his  memory  into  a 
recollection  of  the  old  Indian  expedient  of  heat- 
ing stones  and  then  lying  as  close  to  them  as  pos- 
sible. Though  he  would  not  have  chosen  to  rely 


218    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

as  a  matter  of  practise  upon  such  primitive  means 
of  keeping  warm,  the  arrangement  served  to  make 
the  rest  of  the  night  more  comfortable.  But  it 
was  not  difficult  to  rise  early  when  morning  once 
came,  for  Dick  welcomed  the  end  of  that  night 
of  misery. 

He  ate  sparingly  of  his  breakfast.  Roasted 
pig,  when  served  alone,  soon  grows  monotonous. 
And  before  the  sun  was  fairly  up  he  was  hard 
at  work  with  his  machete,  cutting  his  way  along 
the  overgrown  path. 

After  some  two  hours  of  that  exercise  he  be- 
gan to  regret  having  forsaken  the  river.  But 
he  kept  on.  He  still  had  almost  a  dozen  of  the 
wild  lemons  in  his  pockets;  and  he  resorted  to 
them  grudgingly. 

That  old  trail  proved  disappointing.  Though 
Dick  stuck  doggedly  at  his  task,  he  had  to  admit 
to  himself  at  last  that  for  all  his  efforts  he  seemed 
no  nearer  help  than  before ;  and  he  stretched  him- 
self on  the  ground  to  rest  and  smoke.  He  knew 
there  was  a  limit  to  his  endurance  in  the  tropics. 
Riding  is  usually  the  most  violent  exercise  at- 
tempted by  one  from  the  North  in  that  climate. 

He  had  taken  only  a  few  puffs  on  his  cigarette 
before  he  was  fast  asleep.  .  .  . 


LOST  IN  THE  BUSH  219 

He  awoke  with  a  start.  He  had  no  idea  how 
long  he  had  lain  there ;  and  habit  sent  his  hand  to 
feeling  for  his  watch  before  he  remembered  that 
the  mestizo  had  relieved  him  of  it  two  days  be- 
fore. He  had  wasted  precious  hours — that  much 
he  was  sure  of,  from  the  slant  of  the  sun.  And 
he  sprang  up  and  set  to  work  again. 

Dick  swung  his  long  blade  with  feverish  energy 
now,  as  his  predicament  began  to  prey  upon  his 
mind.  Broken  sleep,  excitement  and  lack  of 
proper  food,  together  with  undue  exertion  under 
trying  conditions,  had  begun  to  tell  upon  him.  But 
if  he  worked  faster  than  before  it  was  only  to 
exhaust  himself  the  more  quickly.  Objects  be- 
gan to  assume  a  curiously  indistinct  shape  before 
his  staring  eyes.  And  scraps  of  long  gone  conver- 
sation came  back  to  him  and  rang  annoyingly  in 
his  ears  over  and  over  again.  Strangely  enough, 
it  was  his  talks  with  Janet  Ashley  that  returned  to 
him  the  most  persistently.  .  .  .  It's  a  sporting 
chance.  .  .  .  I  believe  you're  going  to  win.  .  .  . 
You  must  win!  .  .  .  He  heard  every  inflection  of 
her  voice.  But  it  seemed  to  him  now  that  those 
phrases  were  flung  at  him  mockingly.  They  came 
from  the  depths  of  the  thickets  that  enveloped 
him,  from  the  trees  over  his  head;  he  could  hear 


220   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

them  even  in  the  ring  of  the  machete  as  it  ate 
its  way  through  branch  and  vine. 

Dick  realized  that  he  must  keep  a  tight  rein 
upon  himself.  He  rested  again  for  a  few  minutes 
and  resolved  to  take  things  more  calmly.  There 
was  no  sense  in  spending  his  strength  in  a  hectic 
effort.  And  once  he  resumed  his  struggle  against 
the  rank-growing  tangle  he  sternly  repressed  his 
impulse  to  dash  at  it  wildly.  And  all  the  time  he 
told  himself  that  he  would  win — that  he  must  win. 
He  must  not  die  there  in  the  wilderness  with  guilt 
on  his  soul — the  guilt  of  not  having  righted  the 
wrong  he  had  done  Janet. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

NO   MORE    CHANCES 

WHILE  De  Boer  and  Crispo  were  sleeping  in  the 
house  of  the  storekeeper  at  Rio  Chico,  the  mestizo 
barber  rode  hard  through  the  night.  It  was  nearly 
three  o'clock  before  he  pulled  up  at  a  remote 
ranch-house  in  which  Fernandez  had  often  found 
asylum.  And  there  Pepe  delivered  Farrand's  mes- 
sage. He  was  not  so  indiscreet,  however,  as  to  tell 
Farrand's  exact  words  to  his  chief.  He  knew 
what  Fernandez  was  like  when  he  was  angry. 
So  Pepe  simply  announced  that  Farrand  wanted 
them  to  find  the  gringo,  Bristow. 

"This  time  we  do  not  need  to  take  the  trouble 
to  make  a  prisoner  of  him,"  Pepe  explained.  "It 
will  be  sufficient  if  we  merely  kill  him." 

Fernandez  blinked  in  the  lantern-light  and  drew 
his  blanket  more  closely  about  him. 

"Did  he  give  you  any  money?"  he  asked. 

"No !"    And  then  Pepe  added,  as  the  fat  rascal 

221 


222   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

began  to  revile  him,  "That  need  not  worry  us.  He 
will  pay,  and  pay  well,  too.  Once  we  put  the 
gringo  out  of  his  way  it  will  be  an  easy  matter  to 
collect  the  agreed  sum — and  even  more  I  Meester 
Farrand  will  be  as  good  as  a  gold  mine  for  us. 
He  will  have  to  give  us  whatever  we  ask  for,  at 
any  time — or  we  shall  threaten  to  denounce  him." 

Fernandez  smiled  at  that. 

"You  speak  truly,  Pepe.  And  if  we  cannot  find 
the  gringo  we  will  say  that  we  have  killed  him, 
anyhow.  Perhaps  he  will  lose  himself  and  die 
in  the  bush.  But  that  will  make  no  difference. 
Farrand  will  never  know."  Half  awake  as  he  was, 
Fernandez  was  still  his  resourceful  self.  "When 
it  grows  light,"  he  said,  "we  will  start  out.  And 
until  then  I,  for  one,  intend  to  sleep  like  a  pig. 
We  may  have  much  riding  ahead  of  us." 

The  next  day  the  precious  pair  set  forth  on  their 
murderous  errand.  Their  method  was  simple. 
Starting  systematically,  they  rode  by  twisting  trails 
until  they  had  described  a  wide  semicircle,  distant 
by  a  radius  of  some  ten  miles  from  the  deserted 
hut  where  they  had  first  taken  their  quarry. 
Wherever  there  was  a  house  they  stopped  and 
made  inquiry  for  Dick. 

That    plan    of    search    was    a    product    of 


NO  MORE  CHANCES  223 

Fernandez's  fertile  intellect.  A  man  cannot  com- 
mit unnumbered  outrages  and  escape  punishment 
without  possessing  a  certain  ability.  And 
Fernandez  was  a  clever  rogue.  He  purposed 
making  a  complete  circle  about  the  old  clearing, 
if  it  should  prove  necessary.  He  had  hosts  of 
friends  among  the  country  people.  In  the  first 
place,  events  had  taught  them  that  it  was  the  part 
of  wisdom — safer,  in  short — to  stand  in  his  good 
graces.  And  in  the  second,  Fernandez  was  gen- 
erous. He  scattered  his  ill-gotten  gains  with  a 
prodigal  hand.  He  had  been  known  to  pay  a 
peso  for  nothing  more  than  a  cup  of  coffee,  and 
ten  for  the  privilege  of  sleeping  in  a  hovel.  Fur- 
thermore, it  was  said  that  he  never  molested  the 
poor.  His  friends  made  much  of  that  fact,  not 
stopping  to  realize,  perhaps,  that  such  considera- 
tion was  not  so  great  a  virtue  after  all,  inasmuch 
as  robbing  the  impecunious  is  never  a  profitable 
procedure.  He  was  shrewd  enough,  however,  to 
confine  even  his  minor  depredations  to  the  rich. 
Wealthy  native  planters,  ranch-owners,  American 
mining  men  or  engineers — such  were  his  victims. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  he  killed  so  much  as  a  cow 
or  a  pig  that  belonged  to  some  poor  peon 
Fernandez  always  saw  that  the  owner  was  recom- 


224  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

pensed.  And  it  was  no  wonder,  then,  that  he  ex- 
pected to  receive  information  of  Dick's  movements 
in  case  any  of  the  country  people  had  chanced  to 
see  him. 

It  was  nearly  midday  when  Fernandez  and  Pepe 
picked  up  the  scent.  They  met  a  boy  from  whom 
they  learned  that  a  gringo  had  been  staying  for 
several  days  at  a  house  some  two  leagues  away — 
a  gringo  who  had  lost  himself  in  the  bush. 

That  was  enough  for  them.  They  could  not 
reach  that  house  fast  enough.  Gringos  were  not 
so  numerous  in  that  region  as  to  lead  them  to  be- 
lieve that  there  was  much  doubt  that  the  man  who 
had  been  lost  was  Bristow.  They  had  obtained 
fresh  horses  during  the  morning  from  one  of 
Fernandez's  numerous  friends;  and  now  they 
pushed  on  at  a  steady  lope. 

Arriving  in  sight  of  their  destination,  they 
did  not  ride  directly  up  to  the  house.  Bristow 
had  demonstrated  that  he  could  give  a  good  ac- 
count of  himself  in  a  fight;  and  Fernandez  always 
preferred  to  play  the  game  of  murder  safely.  A 
knife  plunged  in  his  victim's  back,  or  a  shot  from 
ambush — those  were  his  favorite  methods!  And 
he  had  no  stomach  for  showing  himself  boldly 


NO  MORE  CHANCES  225 

in  a  doorway  and  allowing  his  man  to  pot  him 
from  within.  Hidden  in  a  clump  of  guava  trees 
they  reconnoitered  for  a  few  minutes.  And  soon 
they  saw  some  one  drive  a  yoke  of  bulls  away 
from  the  little  group  of  buildings.  By  a  short 
detour  they  contrived  to  head  off  the  bull-driver, 
just  out  of  sight  of  the  house. 

That  countryman  both  knew  and  feared  the  two 
bandits.  And  he  promptly  told  them  all  he  knew 
of  the  Yanqui  who  had  reached  his  house  in  a 
state  of  collapse.  It  was  Bristow.  His  heavy 
chin  identified  him  beyond  any  possibility  of  doubt. 

"But  he  is  gone  now,  amigos"  the  man  said. 
"He  left  this  very  morning.  I  let  him  have  a  lit- 
tle old  horse  to  ride — a  soft-gaited  caballito,  for 
the  gringo  was  still  very  weak.  He  had  had 
fever — much  fever. 

"I  myself  rode  with  him,  to  set  him  on  the 
camino  real — the  highway.  By  keeping  to  that 
road  he  will  have  no  trouble  in  reaching  places 
that  are  familiar  to  him." 

"He  rode  west?"  Fernandez  demanded. 

"Si,  senor!" 

"How  long  since  you  left  him?"  , 

"An  hour,  perhaps " 


226   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"Is   he   armed?"   the   bandit   asked   abruptly. 

"Si,  senor! — with  a  very  big  revolver,  and  a 
belt  full  of  cartridges." 

Fernandez  and  Pepe  drew  to  one  side  and  held 
a  whispered  consultation. 

"You  think  he  will  ride  slowly?"  Fernandez 
asked  the  countryman  shortly. 

"Si!  Very  slowly — poco-poco!  The  little 
horse,  as  I  said,  is  old." 

"How  much  is  he  worth — the  horse?" 
Fernandez  asked  him,  pulling  out  a  bag  of  money. 

"Eighty  pesos!"  the  man  said,  naming  a  sum 
that  was  at  least  twice  the  value  of  the  animal. 
And  he  was  sorry,  at  that,  that  he  had  laid  stress 
upon  his  age. 

"And  the  saddle  and  bridle?" 

"Ten  pesos,  perhaps " 

Fernandez  dropped  a  fistful  of  coins  into  the 
fellow's  hands,  some  of  which  were  of  gold. 

"A  hundred  and  twenty  pesos!"  he  announced. 
"You  may  never  see  your  property  again.  .  .  . 
If  you  should,  it  is  the  same  thing  to  me.  The 
money  is  yours.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  keep  a  quiet 
tongue  in  your  head.  .  .  .  We  understand  each 
other — no  ?" 

And  then  the  two  horsemen  hurried  off — but 


NO  MORE  CHANCES  227 

not  toward  the  camino  real.  Instead,  they  doubled 
back  to  the  westward  along  narrow  trails  that 
paralleled  the  highway  which  Dick  had  taken. 
And  always  they  rode  furiously. 

Fernandez  knew  every  twist  and  turn  of  the 
nameless  paths  that  criss-crossed  that  back  country 
in  a  veritable  labyrinth.  Now  he  boldly  forsook 
a  well-worn  trail  and  made  off  in  a  straight  line 
across  a  savannah,  to  strike  unerringly  an  old 
snake-trail  through  the  woodland  beyond.  Now 
he  doubled  around  a  patch  of  cane.  If  they  came 
to  a  barbed-wire  fence  that  blocked  their  way  he 
always  knew  the  location  of  the  nearest  gate.  He 
had  threaded  that  maze  too  often  by  night  ever  to 
falter  at  its  intricacies  in  the  daylight. 

In  time  the  rapid  pace  began  to  tell  upon  their 
mounts.  And  when  they  had  ridden  for  two  hours, 
perhaps,  they  changed  horses  again.  This  time 
they  took  fresh  mounts  out  of  a  pasture,  turning 
loose  their  own  jaded  animals  in  the  place  of  those 
they  borrowed.  At  the  ranch-house,  which  they 
reached  a  half-mile  further  on,  they  paused  long 
enough  to  explain  what  they  had  done  and  to 
fling  some  money  through  the  doorway. 

Soon  after  that  they  swung  to  the  left.  And 
it  was  not  long  afterward  that  they  came  out 


228    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

upon  the  camino  real  itself,  on  a  crossroad  that 
brought  them  to  a  cantina. 

That  wayside  hostelry  faced  the  main  road. 
Across  its  entire  front  ran  a  long  counter  over 
which  the  proprietor  dispensed  coffee,  or  lukewarm 
beer,  or  ale  in  stone  bottles,  to  travelers  who  rode 
their  horses  beneath  the  wooden  awning  and  drank 
without  the  inconvenience  of  dismounting.  Sev- 
eral naked  children  played  under  the  shade  of  the 
canopy;  and  the  proprietor  himself  sat  behind  the 
bar-like  counter,  smoking  a  cigarette.  He  slid 
off  his  perch  in  a  hurry  when  he  recognized  the 
newcomers. 

"Buenas  dias,  friends!"  he  murmured  with  a 
propitiating  smile.  "How  can  I  serve  you?" 

In  a  few  moments  the  two  cutthroats  were 
guzzling  tepid  beer  from  bottles  while  they  ques- 
tioned the  uneasy  canteen-keeper.  And  to  their 
satisfaction,  no  one  answering  Dick's  description 
had  passed  the  cantina  that  day.  So  they  tossed 
the  relieved  countryman  a  coin  and  went  on. 

But  now  they  no  longer  rode  toward  the  west. 
Following  the  camino  real,  they  traveled  east- 
ward. And  they  had  not  gone  a  mile  further 
before  they  stopped.  Behind  a  screen  of 
palmettos  a  little  distance  back  from  the  road  they 


NO  MORE  CHANCES  229 

hid  their  horses.  And  then  they  wormed  their  way 
into  a  dense  thicket  of  scrub  growth  that  skirted 
the  highway. 

They  had  chosen  their  vantage  point  with  skill. 
The  thicket  grew  in  an  angle  round  which  the 
road  bent  abruptly  and  afforded  them  an  unob- 
structed view  of  the  highway  in  either  direction. 
Where  they  left  their  horses  Fernandez  had 
plucked  a  few  leaves  from  the  cabbage-palms  and 
from  these  he  now  fashioned  masks  for  himself 
and  his  ally. 

While  the  mestizo  watched  the  road  toward  the 
west,  to  make  sure  that  no  one  should  surprise 
them  in  the  midst  of  their  work,  Fernandez  kept 
his  own  eyes  upon  the  stretch  along  which  he 
expected  Dick  to  appear.  Rifle  in  hand,  he  peered 
intently  through  the  holes  of  his  green  mask. 
Now  and  then  the  two  bandits  grumbled  at  the 
length  of  time  it  took  their  quarry  to  approach. 
It  was  tiresome  waiting  there. 

"It  would  not  be  so  bad,"  Pepe  observed,  "it 
would  not  be  so  bad  if  he  had  any  money  on  him. 
But  we  already  have  that." 

"A  good  thing,  too!"  was  Fernandez's  philo- 
sophical answer.  "Now  we  shall  not  have  to  stop 
to  search  him.  .  .  .  Let  me  have  only  one  fair 


230   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

shot  at  him!    Then  for  the  horses — and  away  I" 

At  last  came  the  reward  for  their  patience. 

"Some  one  comes!"  Fernandez  muttered  sud- 
denly. .  .  .  "It  is  he!"  he  exclaimed  a  moment 
later,  when  his  keen  eyes  had  made  him  sure. 

"Let  me  shoot  the  dog!"  Pepe  begged. 

But  Fernandez  bade  him  be  silent  and  stick  to 
his  post. 

"No  more  chances!"  he  growled.  "I  will  kill 
him  myself.  ...  Is  any  one  coming  from  the 
other  way?" 

"No!" 

"Then  I  will  wait  until  he  is  closer,  though  it 
would  be  simple  to  pick  him  off  his  horse  even 
now — that  little  old  soft-gaited  horse.  ...  I 
paid  well  for  that  pony — but  estd  bienf  that's  all 
right!  I'd  give  more  for  him  than  his  rider  just 
now — ha  I  ha!  .  .  .  You  say  no  one  comes?" 

"No  one,  chico!" 

Fernandez  waited  until  the  unsuspecting  horse- 
man had  come  almost  within  a  dozen  rods  of  him 
before  he  raised  his  rifle  and  fired. 

The  impact  of  the  .30  caliber  bullet  tumbled 
Dick  out  of  his  saddle  like  a  straw  dummy.  The 
decrepit  pony  jumped  as  his  rider  slipped  off  him. 


NO  MORE  CHANCES  231 

But  he  stopped  after  a  few  plunges  and  began 
grazing  by  the  roadside. 

Fernandez  took  one  good  look  at  his  victim 
as  he  lay  limp  upon  the  ground. 

"We  shall  have  no  more  trouble  from  that 
gentleman,"  he  said  with  a  chuckle. 

"Give  him  another  shot  for  good  measure," 
Pepe  suggested. 

But  Fernandez  saw  no  sense  in  wasting  ammuni- 
tion like  that. 

"Vamos!"  he  cried.  "Come  on!  I  want  to  be 
fifteen  leagues  from  here  by  dark." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WHAT   DE    BOER    FOUND 

"THAT  captain  is  a  rascal,"  Jose  Crispo  confided 
to  De  Boer  as  they  put  Rio  Chico  behind  them. 
It  was  the  morning  after  their  highly  interesting 
call  upon  the  girl  Rosita.  "The  rural  guard  do 
not  wish  to  capture  Fernandez,"  Crispo  declared. 
"And  the  refusal  of  el  capitan  to  accompany  us  to 
La  Caridad  makes  me  feel  certain  that  Bristow 
is  there — and  that  the  rurales  know  it.  ... 

"We  must  hurry;  for  it  is  not  beyond  reason 
that  the  captain  may  find  some  way  of  warning 
Fernandez  that  we  are  going  to  La  Caridad  to 
look  for  our  friend.  He  must  know,  of  a  cer- 
tainty, that  we  will  go  there  and  I  do  not  wish 
to  give  Fernandez  a  chance  to  hide  his  prisoner 
elsewhere.  .  .  .  We  do  not  need  those  knock- 
kneed  soldiers  to  help  us,  anyhow.  They  are 
mere  boys.  They  can  shoot  well  enough  at  a 
target,  it  may  be.  But  they  have  no  stomach  for 
real  fighting. 

'232 


WHAT  DE  BOER  FOUND        233 

"But  I,  senor — I  know  what  it  is  to  fight.  And 
my  brother-in-law  too — he  is  also  a  veteran  of  the 
wars.  With  him  and  my  eldest  son  we  shall  have 
a  party  of  four.  And  I  hope  to  meet  that  fat  out- 
law Fernandez.  He  has  stolen  cattle  from  me 
more  than  once.  I  should  like  to  get  the  thousand 
dollars  that  the  government  offers  for  his  body." 

Long  unused  to  riding  as  he  was,  De  Boer  was 
glad  when  Crispo  at  last  pointed  out  a  cluster  of 
thatched  buildings  as  his  own.  To  be  sure,  the 
storekeeper's  singlefooting  pony  had  carried  De 
Boer  as  easily  as  it  lay  in  the  power  of  horse- 
flesh to  bear  a  moderately  heavy  man  a  distance 
of  twenty-five  miles  in  three  hours.  But  De  Boer 
was  quite  ready  to  stretch  his  legs  on  terra  firma 
while  Crispo's  family  began  preparations  for  the 
little  relief  expedition.  Two  of  old  Jose's  nu- 
merous progeny  went  to  an  outlying  pasture  to  get 
fresh  horses,  while  their  father  overhauled  rifles 
and  revolvers.  Meanwhile  others  brought  forth 
hammocks,  blankets,  provisions — and  a  dish  or 
two  in  which  to  cook  them.  Saddles,  bridles,  sad- 
dle-bags— everything  was  strewn  about  in  careless 
confusion. 

At  last  De  Boer  looked  uneasily  at  his  watch. 
He  saw  that  an  hour  had  already  passed  and  yet 


234  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

their  departure  seemed  little  nearer,  for  all  the 
bustle.  Even  after  the  horses  arrived  old  Crispo 
would  not  leave  until  his  guest  had  eaten.  So  all 
the  men  sat  down  to  a  midday  breakfast,  while 
the  women — being  inferior  creatures — waited. 
De  Boer  had  not  been  long  enough  away  from  the 
States  to  shake  off  his  Yankee  habits.  His  notion 
of  hurrying  and  Jose  Crispo's  were  as  far  apart 
as  the  poles.  He  did  not  realize  that  any  action 
of  the  rurale  captain  would  proceed  in  a  likewise 
leisurely  fashion. 

But  finally  they  were  off — though  at  a  pace  that 
was  far  too  slow  to  suit  De  Boer.  Old  Crispo, 
however,  was  too  sensible  to  push  his  horses  to 
the  lope  at  which  he  and  De  Boer  had  ridden  in 
the  cool  of  the  morning.  It  was  hot  now.  And 
there  were  the  men  to  consider,  too.  Crispo  knew 
that  after  their  hearty  meal  they  were  in  no  condi- 
tion to  stand  the  pounding  of  fast  riding  under 
that  scorching  sun,  even  if  the  horses  were  equal 
to  the  ordeal.  So  they  jogged  along  at  what 
seemed  to  De  Boer  a  snail's  pace. 

It  was  not  long  before  Crispo's  policy  justified 
itself.  They  had  not  been  in  the  saddle  half  an 
hour  before  De  Boer  was  drunk  with  sleep.  Every 
few  minutes  he  would  reel  in  his  seat,  awaking 


WHAT  DE  BOER  FOUND         235 

with  a  start  to  find  himself  on  the  point  of  falling. 
The  others,  too,  had  to  fight  off  that  overpower- 
ing drowsiness — all  but  Crispo,  who  led  them 
steadily  on.  Mounted  on  a  white  stallion,  the 
lean,  erect  old  man  made  an  impressive  figure. 
With  the  military  collar  of  his  linen  coat  closing 
tightly  under  his  chin,  and  machete  dangling  from 
his  side  with  the  movement  of  the  stallion,  the 
grim  old  veteran  looked  sufficiently  formidable  to 
cause  the  most  desperate  outlaw  to  think  twice 
before  he  stood  up  before  the  fire  of  the  rifle  that 
lay  under  Crispo's  leg  in  a  saddle-holster.  Even 
the  knowledge  that  the  old  man  wore  not  a  stitch 
of  clothing  beneath  that  tightly  buttoned  linen 
suit  did  not  detract  one  whit  from  De  Boer's  ap- 
preciation of  so  imposing  and  romantic  a  picture. 

The  afternoon  was  half  gone  and  for  nearly 
an  hour  they  had  been  riding  eastward  when 
Crispo  halted  them  before  a  cantina.  There  was 
no  one  in  sight ;  and  the  old  man  called  loudly  for 
coffee.  But  no  one  appeared. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  commotion  in  the  back 
part  of  the  building,  in  the  living  room  behind 
the  thin  partition  that  divided  the  flimsy  structure. 
After  waiting  for  a  few  moments  Crispo  dis- 
mounted. And  handing  his  bridle-reins  to  his 


236   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

son  he  crawled  over  the  long  counter  and  pushed 
through  the  door  that  opened  into  the  rear  room. 
In  a  corner  he  saw  a  group  of  chattering  peo- 
ple clustered  about  an  iron  bed.  A  figure  lay  upon 
the  gaudy  quilt — he  could  see  that  much.  And 
then  he  rapped  sharply  upon  the  open  door. 

"Luis!"  he  called,  for  he  knew  the  keeper  of 
the  cantina.  "What  is  the  trouble?"  he  asked, 
when  the  man  Luis  crossed  the  room  to  where 
he  stood. 

"A  gringo — he  has  been  shot!"  the  fellow  said. 
"He  rode  up  here  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago, 
more  dead  than  alive."  It  was  clear  that  Luis 
was  excited.  One  look  at  his  face — as  pale  as 
it  could  grow  under  its  coating  of  tan — and  his 
rolling  eyes  told  Crispo  that  he  was  badly  fright- 
ened as  well.  And  old  Jose  himself  was  uneasy. 
He  stepped  forward  quickly.  And  he  peered  for 
a  moment  at  the  wounded  man  upon  the  blood- 
soaked  bed.  Then  he  turned  and  ran  quickly  out 
of  the  room. 

Dick  was  not  dead.  Fine  marksman  that  he 
was,  for  once  Fernandez  had  deceived  himself. 
He  had  held  his  sights  upon  Dick's  heart;  and 
when  his  victim  fell  at  the  crack  of  his  rifle 


WHAT  DE  BOER  FOUND         237 

Fernandez  had  been  satisfied  that  his  work  was 
completed.  He  had  not  even  taken  the  trouble 
to  run  forward  and  examine  the  prostrate  figure, 
so  confident  was  he  of  his  skill  as  a  sharpshooter. 
And  he  had  imperiously  brushed  aside  Pepe's  sug- 
gestion that  he  pump  another  bullet  into  the  body. 

When  Dick  came  to  his  senses  he  was  conscious 
of  a  peculiar  numbness  in  his  left  arm.  And  turn- 
ing his  head  he  discovered  that  he  was  lying  in 
a  pool  of  blood.  He  struggled  to  his  knees;  and 
he  felt  suddenly  faint  as  he  saw  that  his  arm 
hung  inertly  from  his  shoulder.  Somehow  it  did 
not  seem  to  belong  to  him — that  torn  and  scarlet 
thing.  One  look  at  it  sent  him  sprawling  forward ; 
and  he  lay  there,  helpless,  for  a  time,  without  mak- 
ing any  further  effort. 

Then  something  happened  that  sent  a  horrible 
fear  over  him  and  shook  him  out  of  the  daze  that 
had  gripped  him.  A  buzzard  flapped  leisurely 
down  and  lighted  in  a  low  tree  near-by.  Dick 
knew  what  errand  had  brought  that  gruesome 
scavenger  out  of  the  sky.  And  he  managed  by  a 
mighty  effort  to  gain  his  feet.  He  had  no  idea  of 
the  seriousness  of  his  wound;  but  if  he  must  die 
he  was  determined  that  he  would  die  under  a  roof. 


23 8    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

The  thought  of  falling  a  prey  to  those  loathsome 
birds  revolted  him. 

The  little  old  pony  still  nibbled  at  the  scatter- 
ing bunch-grass  by  the  roadside  and  Dick  stag- 
gered to  his  side.  He  thanked  the  Almighty  that 
the  scrubby  fellow  was  so  small;  but  at  that  he 
found  the  task  of  mounting  him  to  be  almost  an 
impossibility.  Time  after  time  he  tried  to  climb 
upon  him,  only  to  slip  futilely  back  again.  It  was 
heartbreaking.  But  still  he  persisted.  And  in  the 
end  he  succeeded  in  pulling  himself  into  the 
saddle. 

He  had  lost  all  sense  of  direction.  So  he 
started  his  horse  haphazard  down  the  camino  real. 
And  so  at  length  he  came  to  the  cantina  at  the 
crossroads. 

Luis  had  been  too  frightened  and  too  incom- 
petent to  do  much  for  the  wounded  stranger  ex- 
cept to  lay  him  upon  the  bed  and  give  him  a  drink 
of  roily,  brackish  water.  But  now  Dick's  friends 
rendered  him  such  first-aid  as  they  could.  They 
bound  up  his  torn  arm  tightly  with  the  cleanest 
cloths  they  could  find;  and  De  Boer  gave  him 
whisky  from  his  pocket-flask.  Under  the  stimu- 
lant Dick's  eyes  lost  something  of  their  glassy 
look  and  his  voice  became  stronger. 


WHAT  DE  BOER  FOUND         239 

Crispo  and  De  Boer  watched  him  narrowly  for 
a  time.  And  then  they  withdrew  to  hold  a  whis- 
pered consultation  outside  the  door.  They  had 
beckoned  to  the  canteen-keeper  to  follow  them. 

"Where  can  we  get  a  doctor?"  De  Boer  asked 
the  man. 

Luis  declared  that  there  was  no  medico  nearer 
than  Rio  Chico. 

The  American  turned  to  Crispo  then. 

"How  far  away  is  that?"  he  inquired. 

Old  Jose  shot  some  rapid  Spanish  at  his  com- 
patriot. 

"Five  leagues!"  he  answered  at  length. 

De  Boer  quickly  translated  the  five  leagues  into 
good  American  miles.  Elastic  as  he  had  found 
the  Spanish  league  to  be,  he  dared  not  believe 
that  Rio  Chico  lay  much  less  than  fifteen  miles 
distant.  Waving  the  man  Luis  back  into  the  house 
he  said  to  Crispo: 

"It  would  be  hours  before  we  could  get  the 
doctor  here.  And  then  this  would  be  no  place 
for  a  man  in  his  condition."  He  nodded  toward 
the  shack  where  Dick  lay.  "There's  not  a  single 
convenience  here — nothing  at  all  that  he  would 
need — if  he  has  need  of  anything  much  longer. 


24o   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

.  .  .  What  shall  we  do?  Perhaps  we  could  man- 
age to  take  him  to  Rio  Chico " 

Crispo  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"He  might  die  on  the  way,"  he  observed.  "He 
has  lost  much  blood." 

"Is  there  a  hospital  at  Rio  Chico?"  De  Boer 
asked. 

"Si,  senor!  The  Company  has  a  hospital  for 
its  employees." 

As  De  Boer  deliberated  it  struck  him  that  Dick's 
only  chance  lay  in  obtaining  an  antiseptic  dressing 
for  his  wound  with  the  least  possible  delay.  He 
felt  that  to  attempt  to  save  his  life  in  those  un- 
sanitary surroundings  would  be  sheer  folly.  De 
Boer  realized  that  the  germ  theory  meant  nothing 
to  Crispo.  It  was  useless  to  discuss  such  a  topic 
with  him. 

"I  want  to  take  this  boy  to  Rio  Chico,"  he  told 
the  old  man  at  last.  "Do  you  think  we  can  keep 
him  on  a  horse?" 

"It  is  possible,"  Crispo  replied.  "This  cross- 
road leads  there.  As  you  see,  it  is  not  too  narrow 
for  us  to  travel  three  abreast.  One  of  us  can 
ride  on  either  side  of  Bristow." 

"We'll  try  it,   anyhow!"    De   Boer   declared. 


WHAT  DE  BOER  FOUND         241 

And  he  strode  back  into  the  house  to  fortify  his 
patient  with  more  whisky. 

Luis  watched  their  preparations  with  interest. 
And  when  he  saw  that  they  intended  to  place 
the  wounded  gringo  upon  one  of  their  own  horses 
he  protested  volubly. 

"Este  caballito  es  muy  manso — muy  comodof" 
he  clamored,  pointing  to  the  dejected  pony  that 
had  borne  Dick  to  his  hostelry.  "I  know  him 
well,"  he  declared.  "He  is  twenty-five  years  old, 
it  is  true;  but  he  has  a  gait  of  the  softest." 

Crispo's  brother-in-law  cast  a  contemptuous 
glance  at  the  sorry  brute.  But  he  threw  a  leg 
over  the  animal  and  sent  him  across  the  road  and 
back. 

"He  speaks  rightly,"  he  affirmed.  "The  little 
old  horse  is  like  a  rocking-chair." 

So  they  set  Dick  gently  upon  the  tattered  sad- 
dle; and  then  they  started. 

They  made  surprisingly  good  time.  To  be 
sure,  Dick's  ancient  steed  often  lagged.  But  the 
Mexicans  had  a  remedy  for  that.  They  kicked  the 
poor  animal  mercilessly;  and  under  the  circum- 
stances De  Boer  made  no  protest.  But  he  re- 
solved to  hunt  up  the  owner  of  that  wreck  of  a 
horse.  He  wanted  to  buy  him  and  turn  him  loose 


242   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

in  a  good  pasture,  where  he  might  spend  his  re- 
maining years  in  peace.  De  Boer  little  dreamed 
that  Fernandez  himself  had  paid  an  outrageous 
price  for  that  broken-down  pony  that  very  day. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ON  THE  OLD  WOOD-ROAD 

"BRISTOW  is  dead!"  Pepe  Moreno  announced,  a* 
he  faced  Farrand  triumphantly.  After  the  shoot- 
ing he  had  ridden  straight  to  Rio  Chico.  There 
was  no  price  upon  his  head.  He  did  not  need 
to  run  for  cover,  like  Fernandez.  And  so  secure 
did  he  feel  that  he  had  come  boldly  to  the  Com- 
pany's office,  demanding  to  see  the  manager. 

"Don't  talk  so  loud!"  Farrand  warned  him. 
They  were  alone  in  Farrand's  private  office;  and 
the  door  was  shut.  But  thin  partitions  and  open 
windows  served  to  make  Wade  Farrand  cautious. 
"You  should  not  have  come  to  see  me  openly,  like 
this,"  he  said  reprovingly. 

"What  matters  that?"  was  Pepe's  indifferent 
answer.  He  felt  that  the  time  had  arrived  when 
he  need  no  longer  submit  meekly  to  Farrand's 
complaints.  Their  relations  were  suddenly 
changed.  And  Pepe  was  quick  to  assume  that  the 

243 


244   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

present  business  had  put  them  upon  a  common 
level. 

"You  say  Bristow  is  dead?"  Farrand  whispered. 
"How  do  you  know?  You  told  me  once  before 
that  you  had  him  safely  hidden.  But  he  escaped 
from  you." 

"I  tell  you,  he  is  done  for,"  Pepe  declared. 
"Fernandez  himself  shot  the  fellow.  With  my 
own  eyes  I  saw  him  lying  dead  in  the  road." 

Farrand  stared  at  him  dully.  He  seemed 
scarcely  to  grasp  the  news.  He  had  been  guilty 
of  plenty  of  reprehensible  acts  during  his  life; 
but  he  had  never  before  connived  at  murder. 

"You'd  better  disappear  for  a  time,"  he  ad- 
vised the  mestizo,  pulling  himself  together  with 
an  effort. 

"One  requires  money  to  travel,"  Pepe  observed 
with  an  impudent  grin. 

Farrand  regarded  him  with  exceeding  disfavor. 

"I've  already  paid  you  enough  for  the  present," 
he  told  him.  "And  in  addition  to  that,  you  must 

have  robbed "  He  hesitated  momentarily. 

"You  must  have  robbed  him.  He  had  money  for 
his  payroll,  they  say." 

"That  was  nothing,"  Pepe  said  lightly.  "There 
was  very  little.  And  there  were  six  of  us.  ... 


ON  THE  OLD  WOOD-ROAD       245 

Besides,  we  have  now  done  more  than  we  bar- 
gained for,  at  first." 

"That's  your  affair,"  Farrand  rejoined. 

"But  we  have  killed  the  man,"  Pepe  remon- 
strated. 

"I  didn't  tell  you  to  kill  him,"  Farrand  re- 
torted. 

At  that  Pepe  gave  him  a  black  look. 

"Oiga!"  said  Farrand.  "Listen  to  me!  You 
can  get  no  more  money  from  me  now.  You  would 
not  have  needed  to  kill  your  man  if  you  had  not 
bungled  the  business.  .  .  .  Leave  Rio  Chico.  Go 
to  some  other  state  until  the  affair  blows  over. 
Then — then  you  will  find  me  more  than  willing 
to  talk  with  you." 

That  arrangement  did  not  suit  Pepe  at  all.  It 
was  far  too  indefinite  to  please  him.  But  Far- 
rand was  shrewd  enough  to  perceive  that  he  must 
handle  Pepe  with  a  firm  hand,  or  ever  afterward 
submit  to  his  blackmailing  demands.  And  in  the 
end  Farrand's  will  prevailed.  Pepe  went  away 
grumbling.  But  he  had  promised  to  leave  town 
that  night. 

Farrand  derived  no  little  solace  from  his  claim 
that  he  had  not  ordered  Pepe  to  kill  Bristow.  And 
after  the  mestizo  had  gone  he  repeated  the  state- 


246   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

ment  again  to  himself.  He  had  merely  told  Pepe 
to  "get"  Dick.  Surely  it  was  not  his  fault  if  the 
bandits  had  construed  his  directions  to  mean  that 
he  wanted  him  murdered.  And  Farrand  assured 
•himself  that  he  had  never  had  any  such  inten- 
tion. If  Bristow  had  been  killed — well!  that  was 
a  chance  that  every  man  took  who  came  to  that 
rough  country. 

After  reenforcing  his  specious  reasoning  with  a 
stiff  drink  of  whisky,  Farrand  locked  his  desk  and 
departed.  He  had  an  engagement  to  go  riding 
with  Janet  at  five  o'clock  and  it  then  lacked  ten 
minutes  of  the  hour.  He  was  already  in  riding- 
breeches  and  puttees,  and  the  horses — in  the  care 
of  a  stable-boy — were  waiting  outside. 

From  the  piazza  of  Farrand's  house  Janet  saw 
the  two  riders  approaching;  and  when  they  ar- 
rived she  was  at  the  gate. 

They  had  not  gone  far  along  the  highway  that 
led  from  the  village  when  Farrand  swung  off  into 
the  cane-fields. 

"I'm  going  to  show  you  a  new  road  to-day — 
new  to  you,  I  mean,"  he  remarked,  as  they 
threaded  their  way  through  a  maze  of  canaverals 
— long,  narrow  lanes  which  served  as  paths  for 
the  cane-carts  as  well  as  for  fireguards.  "There's 


ON  THE  OLD  WOOD-ROAD       247 

an  old  wood-road  over  there  in  that  timberland," 
he  explained,  pointing  to  the  bush  ahead  of  them. 
"We'll  explore  it  as  far  as  we  can.  The  light 
will  last  two  hours  yet." 

Farrand  had  not  chosen  that  secluded  road  for 
nothing.  He  wanted  an  opportunity  for  an  unin- 
terrupted talk  with  Janet.  With  Bristow's  definite 
removal  from  the  stage  of  events — and  Farrand 
saw  no  reason  to  question  Pepe's  news — with  that 
danger  done  away  with  he  was  eager  to  obtain 
Janet's  promise  to  marry  him.  Renewed  tales  of 
the  richness  of  the  iron  deposit  upon  Janet's  and 
Julian  Marr's  property  had  reached  his  ears  that 
very  day,  making  him  all  the  more  anxious  to 
achieve  the  end  toward  which  he  had  schemed. 

The  days  immediately  preceding  had  told  sadly 
upon  Farrand's  nerves.  He  had  asked  Janet  to 
marry  him.  And  then  had  come  Marr's  discon- 
certing announcement  that  De  Boer  had  obtained 
his  railroad  franchise.  To  be  sure,  Farrand  had 
reflected  that  even  should  Janet  accept  his  offer 
without  further  urging,  there  were  ways  in  which 
engagements  might  be  broken.  But  he  had  been 
reluctant  to  abandon  his  design.  That  mining 
property  was  a  lure  that  dangled  constantly  before 
his  eyes.  And  his  cupidity  had  conquered.  He 


248    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

had  resorted  to  the  only  remaining  means  for 
making  his  plan  good — the  elimination  of  Bris- 
tow,  with  his  option. 

But  since  his  proposal  to  Janet — to  which  Dick 
had  been  an  unwilling  listener — Farrand  had  not 
urged  her  further.  He  had  not  dared  crowd  his 
luck  too  hard.  And  when  Pepe  brought  him  word 
of  Dick's  escape  he  had  congratulated  himself 
upon  his  discretion.  But  now  all  that  was  changed. 
He  was  determined  to  win  Janet's  consent  before 
some  untoward  happening  intervened  to  frustrate 
his  plans.  Indeed,  it  was  a  miracle  that  she  had 
not  already  got  wind  of  that  ore  discovery. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far  along  the  old 
wood-road  before  Farrand  broached  the  subject 
that  was  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

"Have  you  thought  over  what  I  said  to  you  last 
week?"  he  asked  her  abruptly. 

Janet  heard  his  question  with  dismay.  She  had 
had  misgivings  when  Farrand  suggested  taking 
that  little  used  road,  where  they  were  scarcely 
likely  to  meet  other  horsemen.  But  she  had  felt 
that  it  would  be  footless  to  attempt  to  evade  the 
issue  which  lay  between  them. 

Their  horses  had  slowed  down  to  a  walk;  and 
the  remains  of  the  wide  track  worn  long  since  by 


ON  THE  OLD  WOOD-ROAD      249 

the  great  wheels  of  carretas  permitted  them  to 
ride  abreast.  It  was  a  lonely  spot.  On  either 
hand  the  forest  crowded  close  upon  them  in  a 
forbidding  wall  of  rank  and  tangled  growth. 
Strange  tendrils,  twisted  into  grotesque  knots, 
hung  from  the  trees  and  reached  down  menacingly, 
as  if  in  resentment  at  their  violation  of  that  soli- 
tude. Farrand  could  not  have  selected  a  better 
place  in  which  to  demand  his  answer. 

"Have  you  thought  about  it?"  he  repeated,  since 
she  still  remained  silent. 

"I've  thought  about  nothing  else,"  Janet  told 
him  then — a  statement  which  was  scarcely  true, 
as  she  had  to  admit  to  herself  after  she  had 
spoken.  For  much  as  her  mind  had  dwelt  upon 
Farrand  and  his  proposal,  there  was  another  who 
had  obtruded  himself  insistently  upon  her  musings. 
And  that  other  was  Dick  Bristow.  Never  had 
he  been  out  of  her  mind.  She  had  found  herself 
wondering,  again  and  again,  what  fate  had  over- 
taken him.  Somehow,  he  had  established  him- 
self in  her  thoughts  in  a  way  she  had  never  antici- 
pated. Often,  when  reading,  it  had  surprised  her 
to  discover  that  the  printed  words  meant  nothing 
to  her.  Her  eyes  had  followed  the  type  mechani- 
cally, it  was  true ;  but  her  brain  had  utterly  failed 


25o  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

to  grasp  its  significance.  Instead,  she  had  un- 
consciously been  speculating  as  to  his  whereabouts, 
asking  herself  if  he  could  have  vanished  of  his 
own  free  will,  or  whether  he  might  not  have  met 
with  some  accident,  or  even  with  violence.  And 
what  especially  amazed  her  was  the  fact  that  she 
cared.  Had  his  safety  not  meant  much  to  her  she 
knew  that  she  would  never  have  lain  awake  by 
night  to  think  of  him,  to  hope  that  he  was  un- 
harmed, to  wish  for  his  return.  And  yet  she 
realized  that  he  had  never  given  her  the  slightest 
reason  to  believe  that  she  was  more  to  him  than 
scores  of  other  women. 

"I  hope  you've  made  up  your  mind,"  Farrand 
was  saying.  And  so  far  away  were  her  thoughts 
at  that  moment,  even,  that  she  started  as  he  spoke. 
"I  hope  that  you're  ready  to  give  me  the  answer 
I  want,"  he  said.  "This  long  week  of  waiting  has 
been  a  nightmare  for  me.  I  can't  tell  you  how  I've 
worried.  But  I've  felt  that  I  ought  not  to  hurry 
you." 

"You've  been  very  kind,"  Janet  told  him  grate- 
fully. "You've  always  been — that — to  me."  And 
she  was  sincere.  It  did,  indeed,  seem  to  her  that 
he  had  been  more  than  considerate  not  to  urge 
her. 


ON  THE  OLD  WOOD-ROAD      251 

& 

"I've  wanted  to  be,  surely,"  he  replied.  "But 
it's  not  hard  to  be  kind  to  you,  my  dear.  What 
I  want  is  the  chance  to  be  kind  to  you  always — 
not  just  for  a  few  weeks." 

She  turned  her  face  toward  his  impetuously. 

"I'm  afraid  to  say  I'll  marry  you!"  she  cried 
with  much  emotion.  "I — I'm  not  sure  of  myself." 

"What  troubles  you?"  he  asked  her. 

"Don't  think  me  cruel,  please,  when  I  tell  you. 
It's  only  that  I  want  to  be  honest  with  you.  .  .  . 
Frankly,  I'm  not  sure  that  I  care  enough  for  you 
to  become  your  wife." 

"You  like  me,  don't  you?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes!" 

"But  you're  not  positive  that  you  love  me — is 
that  it?" 

"Y-es!" 

"My  dear — don't  worry  about  that!"  he  ex- 
claimed. "You  know,  it's  said  that  when  two 
people  marry  there's  always  more  affection  on  one 
side  than  the  other.  Why  should  our  case  be  dif- 
ferent from  others?  It's  well  enough — natural 
enough — to  hope  for  the  ideal.  But  we  seldom 
realize  our  ideals  completely.  They  are  elusive 
things,  Janet.  .  .  .  Suppose  you  did  not  marry 
me — suppose  you  waited;  and  when  some  other 


252   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

man  asked  you  to  marry  him — some  man  for 
whom  you  seemed  to  care  more  than  for  me — 
how  would  you  know  that  he  loved  you  as  much 
as  I  do?  Would  you  prefer  to  care  more,  and 
have  your  husband  care  less?  .  .  .  Would  you?" 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  she  said  slowly. 
And  Farrand's  words  turned  her  mind  upon  Dick 
again.  She  had  discovered  that  she— cared — 
a  good  deal  for  him.  But  doubtless  he  thought  no 
more  of  her  than  of  dozens  of  other  girls  of  his 
acquaintance.  .  .  .  Was  there  not — after  all — 
much  truth  in  Farrand's  argument? 

"I  don't  blame  you  for  wanting  to  be  sure  of 
yourself,"  Farrand  continued.  "But  marriage  is 
so  momentous  a  step  that  I  doubt — knowing  you 
as  I  do — that  you  would  ever  take  it  without  mis- 
givings, no  matter  how  long  you  deliberated." 

"Are  you  sure  that  you  want  me?"  she  asked. 

He  rode  close  to  her  and  laid  his  hand  upon 
hers  where  it  rested  upon  the  pommel  of  her 
saddle. 

"Surer  than  I  ever  was  about  anything  in  my 
life!"  he  declared  with  well  simulated  emotion. 
"Come!  Tell  me  what  I  want  you  to  tell  me! 
.  .  .  Will  you,  Janet?" 


ON  THE  OLD  WOOD-ROAD       253 

For  a  few  moments  her  eyes  searched  his.  And 
then  she  whispered 

"Yes!  ...  Oh!  I  hope  it's  for  the  best— for 
us  both !"  she  cried  in  the  next  breath.  "I  hope 
I'm  not  wronging  you!" 

"Wronging  me!"  he  protested,  with  an  odd, 
short  laugh.  "My  dear  Janet!  You're  doing  me 
the  best  turn  any  one  ever  did  me!"  No  state- 
ment that  he  had  ever  made  came  nearer  the  truth 
than  that. 

But  even  then  her  misgivings  were  not  entirely 
dissipated. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  say  that  with  as  much 
enthusiasm  thirty  years  from  now?"  she  ques- 
tioned. 

"Always!  always!"  he  declared  with  apparent 
conviction.  "I'll  say  it  as  long  as  I  live." 

Night  descends  quickly  in  that  land  of  scant 
twilights.  The  day  was  fast  fading  when  Janet 
and  Farrand  reached  the  group  of  low  buildings 
that  crowded  close  to  the  larger  structures  that 
flanked  the  mill  itself.  Before  the  Company's 
hospital — it  was  only  by  the  greatest  courtesy 
that  one  could  dignify  the  edifice  by  that  name — 


254   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

before  it  stood  several  horses.  And  a  group  of 
people  lounged  about  the  doorway. 

"Something's  up!"  said  Farrand.  "Do  you 
mind  waiting  a  moment  while  I  go  in?" 

"Not  at  all  I"  Janet  told  him. 

So  he  dismounted  and  pushed  his  way  through 
the  knot  of  chattering  natives.  Inside  he  found 
Dick.  Farrand's  heart  sank  as  he  recognized 
him.  But  as  he  noted  his  white  face  and  glassy 
eyes  he  told  himself  that  he  had  little  to  fear. 
Dick  seemed  as  good  as  dead. 

Wade  Farrand  returned  quickly  to  join  Janet. 
He  told  her  briefly  that  Dick  was  there — wounded. 
"Shot  in  some  brawl,  probably!"  he  added,  by  way 
of  explanation. 

Somehow,  as  they  rode  on  in  the  thickening 
dusk,  the  joy  seemed  gone  from  Janet's  soul. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION 

SEATED  in  a  comfortable  wicker  chair  on  Far- 
rand's  piazza,  Julian  M arr  was  diligently  scanning 
a  ten-day-old  New  York  newspaper.  Marr  seldom 
indulged  in  anything  so  nearly  approaching  idle- 
ness as  that.  Usually  he  read  his  newspaper  in 
snatches,  so  to  speak.  But  there  was  a  curious 
languorous  quality  in  that  soft  air  that  made  its 
impression  even  upon  his  unflagging  energy.  And 
after  finishing  his  breakfast  he  had  yielded  to  a 
luxury  that  he  did  not  often  allow  himself. 

He  had  not  noticed  the  approach  of  a  man  who 
when  he  caught  sight  of  the  bulky  figure  upon  the 
piazza,  thought  better  of  his  intention  to  ring  the 
bell  and  made  his  way  down  the  long  gallery. 
Marr  turned  his  head  at  the  sound  of  the  foot- 
steps; and  a  look  of  annoyance  crossed  his  face. 
For  years  he  had  made  it  a  practise  to  grant 
interviews — except  with  newspaper  gentry — only 

255 


256    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

by  appointment.  It  was  not  that  he  was  a  snob. 
At  heart  he  was  the  most  democratic  of  men. 
But  with  his  gradual  rise  to  a  position  of  power 
in  the  world  he  had  found  that  the  demands  made 
upon  his  valuable  time  by  inconsequential  people 
became  increasingly  greater.  And  he  had  so  long 
hedged  himself  away  from  casual  interruptions 
that  he  had  grown  to  resent  any  attempted  en- 
croachment on  the  part  of  strangers. 

"You  want  to  see  Mr.  Farrand,"  he  blurted, 
before  the  newcomer  had  spoken.  "You'll  find 
him  at  the  Company's  office." 

His  caller — a  well-knit,  virile  individual  whose 
gray  hair  alone  gave  him  an  appearance  of  middle 
age — smiled  slightly  under  the  rebuff.  But  he 
was  in  no  wise  abashed.  As  it  happened,  he  was 
himself  a  person  of  some  importance. 

"No "  he  said,  "it's  you  I  want  to  see,  Mr. 

Marr.  My  name  is  De  Boer."  And  he  held  out 
a  card  to  his  unwilling  listener. 

Marr  made  no  move  to  take  the  bit  of  paper. 
He  was  not  invariably  noted  for  his  good  man- 
ners. 

De  Boer  dropped  the  card  upon  the  arm  of 
Marr's  chair.  And  seating  himself  deliberately 
in  another,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  some- 


A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION     257 

thing  on  his  mind  and  intended  to  relieve  himself 
of  it,  he  looked  at  Marr  evenly.  But  whatever 
his  business  might  be,  he  appeared  to  be  in  no 
hurry. 

"Well  ?"  his  host  inquired  irritably.  "What  can 
I  do  for  you?"  In  spite  of  his  brusqueness  Marr 
was  interested.  He  hazarded  the  guess  that  Bris- 
tow's  approaching  demise — and  the  consequent 
failure  of  De  Boer's  plans — had  very  likely 
brought  that  suave  gentleman  to  the  point  where 
he  was  desirous  of  effecting  a  truce. 

"I  want  you  to  talk  over  this  matter  of  your 
land — Aguacate,"  De  Boer  explained. 

"Humph!  I'll  hear  what  you  have  to  say,  if 
that's  what  you  mean,"  Marr  replied.  "I  don't 
know  that  I've  anything  to  offer  on  that  sub- 
ject." He  rose  from  his  chair  then.  "Come 
inside,"  he  continued.  "We're  less  likely  to  be 
disturbed  in  there."  And  he  led  the  way  to  the 
room  that  was  set  aside  for  his  use  as  an  office 
whenever  he  chanced  to  visit  Rio  Chico. 

Marr  seated  himself  once  more,  behind  the 
large,  flat-topped  desk  in  the  center  of  the  room, 
while  De  Boer  drew  up  a  chair  opposite  him. 

The  office  was  but  sparsely  furnished.  Beyond 
three  or  four  chairs,  a  bookcase,  together  with 


258    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

some  framed  photographs  of  Mexican  scenes 
upon  the  walls  and  a  Persian  rug  upon  the  floor, 
there  was  little  in  the  room.  A  few  sticks  of 
wood  blazed  in  the  open  fireplace — a  concession  to 
the  chill  of  the  early  morning. 

"The  time  has  come,"  De  Boer  began,  "when 
I  want  to  exercise  that  option  for  the  purchase 
of  the  property." 

"The  option  was  granted  to  Bristow,  was  it 
not?"  Marr  interposed. 

"Yes!" 

"Dead  men  can't  exercise  options,"  Marr  re- 
marked with  acerbity. 

"Quite  right!"  said  De  Boer.  "But  Bristow 
is  not  dead — if  you  have  him  in  mind." 

"Dying,  then!"  the  older  man  retorted.  "He 
is  certainly  in  no  condition  to  transact  business. 
His  signature  would  have  no  value  in  the  eyes  of 
the  law." 

"This  is  really  quite  beside  the  question,  Mr. 
Marr,"  De  Boer  objected.  "We  don't  need  Bris- 
tow to  complete  this  negotiation." 

"But  I  tell  you  a  dead  man — or  as  good  as 
dead — can't  do  business!"  Marr  growled. 

"I  grant  you  that,"  De  Boer  admitted  softly. 
'No  matter  how  irritable  his  testy  host  might  be, 


A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION     259 

he  had  no  intention  of  losing  his  own  temper. 
"I  grant  you  that  much.  But  heirs  and  assigns 
can  transact  business,  always." 

".Are  you  his  heir?"  the  other  demanded  fero- 
ciously. 

"No " 

"Well — I  have  nothing  to  say  to  you  about  this 
affair,  then — absolutely  nothing." 

"But  this  contract  is  assigned  to  me, '  De  Boer 
explained  politely  enough. 

"Let  me  see  it!"  Marr  snorted.  He  was  con- 
vinced that  his  caller  was  trying  a  game  of  bluff 
on  him  and  he  had  no  notion  of  succumbing  to 
any  Yankee  trick  of  that  stamp.  Marr,  be  it  said, 
was  an  excellent  poker-player;  and  when  there 
was  any  bluffing  to  be  done  he  was  quite  capable 
of  taking  care  of  his  own  interests.  He  had  no 
idea  that  De  Boer  had  the  document.  Where 
it  might  be  he  did  not  know.  But  both  he  and 
Farrand  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  although 
Farrand's  cutthroats  had  failed  to  find  it  upon 
Bristow,  nevertheless  it  was  non-existent  so  far 
as  all  practical  purposes  were  concerned.  They 
believed  that  Bristow  had  concealed  the  paper 
somewhere  for  safekeeping,  that  he  had  hidden  it 
in  some  secret  place — beneath  a  tree,  possibly — 


26o   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

where  none  but  him  could  find  it.  But  now  Marr 
experienced  a  curious  sensation  as  he  saw  De  Boer 
put  his  hand  into  the  breast  pocket  of  his  coat 
and  pull  out  a  long  pocket-book.  And  he  became 
decidedly  uneasy,  inwardly,  when  De  Boer  pro- 
duced a  legal-looking  envelope  therefrom  and  pro- 
ceeded to  open  it. 

"Here  it  is!"  De  Boer  held  up  the  paper  for 
him  to  see.  There  was  an  additional  sheet  at- 
tached to  the  original  contract,  which  constituted 
an  assignment  of  the  option  to  himself.  He  did 
not,  however,  place  it  in  Marr's  hands. 

"My  dear  sir !  This  is  preposterous !  An  op- 
tion is  not  assignable.  Some  one  has  played  a  joke 
on  you.  You  may  as  well  put  that  paper  in  your 
pipe  and  smoke  it.  It's  worthless." 

"You'll  find  this  is  no  joke,"  De  Boer  retorted. 
In  spite  of  his  resolution  he  was  beginning  to  feel 
vexed  by  Marr's  attitude. 

"And  I  say  it's  a  hoax  I"  Marr  roared.  "A 
hoax  pure  and  simple!  Let  me  see  that!"  He 
had  risen  from  his  seat  and  before  De  Boer 
grasped  his  intention  he  had  snatched  the  docu- 
ment out  of  the  American's  hand.  "Just  as  I 
thought!"  Marr  spluttered.  And  while  he  scanned 
the  papers  he  edged  toward  the  open  fire.  His 


A  DIFFERENCE  Ofc  OPINION     261 

hand — the  one  that  held  the  contract — was  al- 
ready stretched  over  it  when  De  Boer  covered 
him  with  his  automatic. 

"No,  you  don't!"  De  Boer  cried.  "Give  me 
that  paper!" 

Julian  Marr  glanced  back  at  him  and  paused. 
He  did  not  relish  the  gleam  of  that  sinister-look- 
ing pistol.  And  yet  his  hand  wavered  above  the 
fire. 

"I'll  shoot  you,  sure  as  hell,  if  you  drop  that 
contract!"  De  Boer  warned  him.  .  .  .  "Come! 
Give  it  back  to  me!" 

Marr  straightened  up  and  faced  him  with  an 
easy  smile. 

"It's  valueless,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  agree  with  you,"  was  the  blunt  answer. 

"Why — it's  as  plain  as  can  be.  Let  me  explain 
it  to  you.  Sit  down!"  He  waved  De  Boer  back 
to  the  chair  in  front  of  the  desk,  at  the  same  time 
resuming  his  own  seat  behind  it.  "You  under- 
stand, of  course,"  he  continued,  "you  understand 
that  Bristow,  by  his  payment  of  a  thousand  dol- 
lars— a  ridiculous  sum,  by  the  way,  to  tie  up  so 
valuable  a  property — Bristow  obligated  me  and 
the  coowner  of  the  tract  to  sell  Aguacate  to  the 
party  of  the  second  part — that  is,  to  Bristow.  By 


262   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

our  acceptance  of  the  sum  specified  it  became  our 
duty  to  sell  Bristow  the  land  at  any  time  within 
one  year — another  absurd  condition ! — if  it  should 
be  his  pleasure  to  purchase  it.  ...  I  believe  I 
am  stating  the  terms  correctly?" 

De  Boer  nodded.  He  still  clutched  the  auto- 
matic pistol.  But  he  no  longer  had  Marr  cov- 
ered with  it,  for  the  man  had  returned  the  con- 
tract to  him. 

"Very  well,  then!"  his  burly  antagonist  con- 
tinued, in  a  tone  vastly  pleasanter  than  he  had 
hitherto  employed  during  the  interview.  "I  am 
surprised  that  you,  as  a  business  man,  are  not 
aware  of  the  established  fact,  at  law,  that  duties 
and  obligations  are  not  transferable — not  as- 
signable." 

At  that  De  Boer  laughed  in  Marr's  face. 

"Your  statement  is  absolutely  specious,"  he 
declared.  "As  a  business  man  I  am  certainly  not 
to  be  hoodwinked  by  any  such  argument.  It  is 
not  at  all  a  case  of  transferring  the  duties  and  ob- 
ligations of  the  present  owners  of  Aguacate.  But 
every  one  knows — you  must  know,  yourself — that 
rights  are  assignable.  And  Bristow  has  assigned 
his  rights,  as  specified  by  contract,  to  me.  Your 
obligation  to  sell  has  not  been  assigned.  That 


A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION     263 

exists  as  before.  And  what  is  more,  I  intend  to 
give  myself  the  pleasure  and  satisfaction  of  see- 
ing that  you  perform  your  obligation." 

Julian  Marr  advanced  no  further  argument  on 
that  point.  He  saw  that  De  Boer  was  sure  of  his 
ground — too  sure  to  be  bluffed  out  of  his  convic- 
tion. But  still  the  wily  old  strategist  had  no 
thought  of  surrender.  And  he  shook  his  head 
with  the  air  of  one  who  almost  despaired  of  driv- 
ing a  self-evident  fact  into  the  cognizance  of  a  dull 
brain. 

"I  have  told  you  that  a  dying  man  is  hardly 
held  competent  by  the  courts,"  he  said  with  a 
show  of  weariness,  which  he  assumed  as  a  cloak 
to  his  maneuvers. 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  follow  you,"  De  Boer  re- 
marked. "I  don't  grasp  your  point  at  all." 

"Bristow  executed  this  assignment  on  his  death 
bed " 

"He  did  not!  It  was  executed  at  San  Miguel 
nearly  ten  days  ago.  It  is  witnessed  by  Gordon 
Macdonald,  local  manager  of  the  Banco  Terri- 
torial, and  the  bank's  traveling  auditor,  J.  F. 
Simmons — both  creditable  persons,  I  should  say. 
And  for  your  further  enlightenment  I  will  add  that 
the  document  was  despatched  to  me  by  registered 


264  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

mail,  on  the  same  day  as  the  assignment.  Yo  i 
can  see  for  yourself  that  it  was  posted  in  one  of 
the  bank's  envelopes."  And  he  showed  Marr  the 
envelope  with  the  imprint  of  the  Banco  Territorial 
at  San  Miguel,  duly  postmarked  and  with  a  can- 
celed stamp  upon  it. 

Marr  glanced  at  the  evidence  in  the  most  casual 
manner. 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do  now?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"Why 1  propose  to  crowd  sixty-nine  thou- 
sand dollars  on  you,"  De  Boer  answered.  "Here 
is  a  certified  check  for  the  amount."  He  held  up 
a  pink  slip  for  Marr's  inspection. 

Julian  Marr  emitted  one  of  his  famous  grunts. 

"I  suppose  you  want  a  receipt,  pending  the  exe- 
cution of  the  deed?" 

"That's  agreeable  to  me,"  De  Boer  replied. 

Marr  nodded  his  acquiescence.  He  seemed  to 
have  struck  his  colors. 

"Very  well !"  he  said.  And  he  opened  a  drawer 
of  his  desk.  In  another  second  he  had  leveled  a 
large,  blue  revolver  at  his  caller.  "Drop  that 
pistol!"  he  commanded.  And  De  Boer  let  his 
automatic  fall  upon  the  floor.  "A  taste  of  your 
own  medicine,"  Marr  remarked  grimly.  "Now, 


A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION     265 

then!  Hand  over  that  document — and  the  en- 
velope too!" 

"I'll  do  no  such  thing!" 

"Then  I'll  take  them  off  your  dead  body." 

"What!  Julian  Marr  turned  brigand — thief — 
murderer!"  De  Boer  exclaimed  incredulously.  "I 
can't  believe  it." 

"Exactly!"  said  Marr,  with  a  confident  smile. 
"And  no  one  else  will  believe  it,  either.  That's 
why  I'm  willing  to  take  this  step.  You  don't 
suppose  they'd  touch  me,  do  you — for  killing 
you?"  He  laughed  aloud.  "I  hold  these  native 
judges  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand.  They're  my 
men;  I  had  them  appointed.  They'll  rule  that  I 
shot  you  in  self-defense.  .  .  .  You're  armed. 
You  came  here  to  intimidate  me  into  selling  you 
some  land  you  wanted.  And  I  declined  to  be 
coerced.  You  had  no  option.  Your  tool,  Bris- 
tow,  had  one;  but  it  was  lost.  You  abused  me, 
threatened  me.  You  drew  your  pistol.  .  .  .  But 
I  was  quicker  than  you  and  I  fired  first.  ...  A 
pretty  good  story — eh,  what?  .  .  .  And  one  that 
will  be  believed,  too.  I  have  something  of  a  repu- 
tation," remember !" 

"For  truth  and  veracity?"  De  Boer  inquired 
with  an  air  of  innocence. 


266   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"Don't  forget  that  I  own  the  judges!"  Marr 
snarled.  "Come !  Drop  that  paper  on  the  desk!" 

"Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself?" 

"Ashamed?  Hell!  You're  a  good  one  to  ask 
that.  Why!  it's  not  five  minutes  since  you  threat- 
ened to  shoot  me." 

"Yes — because  you  tried  to  rob  me,"  De  Boer 
retorted. 

"Rob?  Nonsense!  I'm  simply  administering 
justice,  my  dear  fellow.  You  and  your  gang  con- 
spired to  get  possession  of  this  mining  property 
by  unfair  methods — very  questionable  methods. 
And  I  must  give  you  credit  for  playing  your  cards 
well.  You  bribed  the  Mexican  legislators.  I  be- 
lieve you  even  bought  my  own  land  commissioner 
— paid  him  money,  by  God!  to  induce  me  to 
sign  that  absurd  contract.  .  .  .  The  whole  thing's 
rotten !  It  would  never  stand  in  the  courts.  .  .  . 
Now,  then !  Give  me  the  paper !  I'll  only  be  sav- 
ing you  the  expense  of  a  law-suit,  for  I'd  have 
fought  you  to  a  finish  before  I'd  be  beaten  by 
you.  .  .  .  What  chance  would  you  have  with  your 
principal  witness — Bristow — dead  ?" 

Still  De  Boer  made  no  move  to  relinquish  his 
grip  upon  the  crumpled  contract.  And  now  he 
said  slowly: 


A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION     267 

"I've  heard  it  said  that  Englishmen  are  hard 
losers.  ...  I  never  believed  it,  though.  But  you 
certainly  do  hate  to  see  money  slip  through  your 
fingers,  don't  you?" 

"It's  not  for  myself  that  I'm  taking  this  con- 
tract away  from  you,"  the  other  objected.  "And 
it  won't  be  for  myself  that  I'll  kill  you,  in  about 
one  minute  more,  if  you  don't  give  up  that  bit  of 
paper.  .  .  .  Your  gang  has  made  one  fatal  error. 
You've  attempted  to  defraud  a  girl — an  orphan. 
Why — you're  worse  than  the  three-card  monte 
men  I  used  to  know  years  ago  in  the  States — 
out  West.  They  wouldn't  take  bets  from  widows, 
cripples  or  orphans.  But  God  only  knows  where 
you'd  draw  the  line.  .  .  .  Now  I'm  drawing  it 
for  you.  I  ask  you  just  once  more — do  you  or  do 
you  not  intend  to  give  me  that  contract?" 

Before  he  had  finished  talking  De  Boer's  eyes 
forsook  his  and  rested  on  a  figure  that  appeared 
in  the  doorway  behind  Marr. 

It  was  Janet  Ashley.  She  hesitated  as  she  saw 
that  the  office  was  occupied,  and  stopped  short  as 
if  in  astonishment  at  the  amazing  scene  before  her. 

De  Boer  glanced  back  at  his  adversary  then. 

"Your  minute  must  be  up,"  he  observed  in  ?. 
low  voice.  "And  since  there's  a  most  creditable 


268   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

fitness  to  the  killing  I  beg  you  to  proceed  with  it." 

"What  d'ye  mean?"  Marr  demanded. 

"Look  behind  you!" 

"What — and  have  you  rush  me  ?  Not  if  I  know 
it!"  Marr  smiled  mockingly.  "That  trick's  too 
simple." 

"Good-morning !"  De  Boer  said.  "Is  there  any- 
thing I  can  do  for  you?  .  .  .  Mr.  Marr's  en- 
gaged, as  you  see." 

Marr  turned  his  head  warily  then.  And  when 
his  eyes  fell  upon  Janet  he  dropped  his  revolver 
into  the  drawer  in  momentary  confusion  and  shut 
it  with  a  bang. 

"Er — I  was  just  telling  Mr.  De  Boer  a  story 
— about  a  Greaser  who  threatened  to  shoot  me 
one  time.  'Wait  a  moment!'  I  said.  'I  want  to 
take  your  picture  first.'  There  was  a  camera  on 
my  desk  and  I  took  a  snap-shot  of  the  fellow.  He 
was  so  surprised — ha !  ha ! — so  surprised  that  he 
forgot  all  about  shooting  me,  or  thought  better  of 
his  intention,  perhaps.  Anyhow,  he  put  away  his 
revolver.  And  I'm  alive  to  tell  the  tale." 

"How  interesting!"  Janet  exclaimed.  She  had 
moved  forward  as  Marr  rambled  on.  "For  a 
moment  I  was  frightened." 

"Naturally!    Quite  realistic,  wasn't  it?"  Marr 


A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION     269 

said.  "What  is  it,  my  dear  ?  Is  there  something 
you  want?" 

"I  don't  want  to  bother  you,"  she  apologized, 
"but  I  thought  I  might  have  left  a  book  here — 
one  I  was  reading  yesterday." 

"No  bother  at  all,  I  assure  you!"  he  protested 
affably.  "I  don't  see  any  book  lying  about.  It's 
not  in  that  case,  is  it?" 

As  Janet  stepped  to  the  bookcase  De  Boer  re- 
trieved his  pistol  from  the  floor.  He  had  covered 
it  with  his  foot  as  she  entered  the  room. 

"I'll  be  going  now,"  he  announced.  "Next 
time  we  discuss  this  matter,  Mr.  Marr,  I'll  bring 
a  lawyer  with  me  and  we  can  finish  the  business." 

Julian  Marr  bowed  to  him.  Inwardly  he  was 
raging.  But  nevertheless  he  preserved  outwardly 
an  appearance  of  the  utmost  calm.  And  in  an- 
other moment  De  Boer  was  gone,  taking  his  con- 
tract with  him. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

TO  RIGHT  THE  WRONG 

IN  spite  of  the  protests  of  the  native  doctor,  De 
Boer  had  pushed  Dick's  bed  close  to  a  window, 
with  instructions  that  it  should  not  be  moved. 
Like  his  compatriots,  the  medico  considered  night 
air  to  be  injurious. 

"It's  the  only  kind  of  air  there  is  after  sun- 
down," De  Boer  declared;  "and  we'll  give  him 
plenty  of  it." 

Lulled  somewhat  by  the  opiates  they  adminis- 
tered to  him,  Dick  had  dozed  fitfully  during  that 
first  night  in  the  hospital.  His  weary  body  seemed 
to  beg  for  sleep;  but  his  brain  would  not  be 
still.  A  curious  haze  of  unreality  enwrapped  him. 
Somehow  he  could  not  be  sure  that  it  was  him- 
self that  lay  there  in  that  strange  place.  It  all 
impressed  him  as  some  dream.  De  Boer's  occa- 
sional presence  in  the  room — the  doctor — the 
flickering  lamp-light — nothing  seemed  quite  actual. 

270 


TO  RIGHT  THE  WRONG         271 

Toward  the  end  of  that  night  of  phantoms  the 
sufferer  at  last  fell  asleep.  .  .  .  The  day  had 
come  when  Dick  awoke.  As  he  lay  motionless 
and  gazed  out  of  the  window  he  saw  that  an  early 
morning  mist  hung  over  the  land,  shutting  out 
from  view  all  but  the  nearest  objects,  except  for 
a  line  of  feathery  palm  tops  that  rose  above  the 
fog.  There  was  a  bull-team  passing  not  far  off. 
Dick  could  hear  the  tinkle  of  the  bell  upon  one 
of  the  leaders,  the  shouts  of  the  driver;  even  the 
creaking  of  the  great  cart  reached  his  ears  with 
minute  distinctness.  He  could  see  nothing  of  the 
objects  themselves;  but  it  was  as  if  he  might  al- 
most have  reached  his  hand  out  of  the  window 
and  touched  them.  Then  a  breeze  folded  back 
the  filmy  curtain  momentarily  and  he  made  out 
the  dim  shapes  that  moved  like  silhouettes  across 
the  scene.  The  team  was  just  crossing  a  low 
ridge;  and  the  long  line  formed  by  the  six  bulls, 
yoked  two  abreast,  and  the  huge  carreta  bent  it- 
self to  conform  to  the  undulations  of  the  ground. 
In  another  instant  the  picture  was  gone. 

It  seemed  to  Dick  that  life  was  like  that — a 
mere  fleeting  passage.  Sometimes  the  curtain  fell 
quickly.  And  if  the  invisible  hand  was  already 
loosening  the  folds  that  would  blot  out  his  own 


brief  course  he  could  not  believe  that  it  mat- 
tered. 

There  was  one  effort  that  Dick  would  make, 
in  disregard  of  De  Boer's  urging  that  he  should 
husband  his  strength.  He  insisted  on  making 
a  will.  With  the  assistance  of  an  old  native 
lawyer  whom  De  Boer  found  in  the  village  the 
thing  was  soon  accomplished,  for  the  instrument 
was  of  the  briefest.  And  then  Dick  asked  De 
Boer  to  go  to  Julian  Marr  and  eomplete  the 
Aguacate  transaction.  That  much  he  wished  to 
see  accomplished. 

De  Boer  was  loath  to  leave  him.  But  requests 
of  that  sort  are  not  to  be  lightly  regarded.  So 
De  Boer  made  his  memorable  call  upon  Marr. 
And  when  he  returned  he  found  that  Dick  had 
one  more  desire.  He  wanted  to  see  Janet. 

De  Boer  sent  a  note  to  her.  He  thought  that 
under  the  circumstances  he  would  scarcely  be 
persona  grata  under  the  roof  that  sheltered  the 
president  of  the  South  Eastern  Railway  Com- 
pany. 

Marr  had  protested  vigorously  when  he  learned 
that  Janet  was  about  to  visit  the  hospital. 

"There's  no  sense  in  your  being  harrowed  by 
any  death-bed  scene,"  he  told  her.  "Bristow  has 


TO  RIGHT  THE  WRONG         273 

no  right  to  impose  any  such  ordeal  on  you.  He 
has  no  claim  upon  you."  He  turned  to  Janet's 
aunt.  "Surely,  Miss  Browning,"  he  said,  "surely 
you  won't  allow  your  niece  to  submit  to  this  un- 
reasonable demand?" 

Janet  did  not  wait  for  her  aunt's  answer. 

"I  must  go!"  she  declared.  "I  can't  bear  to 
think  of  his  dying — almost  alone — in  this  strange 
land,  so  far  from,  his  own  people.  .  .  .  I'm  glad 
to  go,  if  he  wants  me." 

She  found  De  Boer  waiting  for  her.  He 
thanked  her  briefly,  then  showed  her  into  the 
room  where  Dick  lay.  And  placing  a  chair  be- 
side the  bed,  he  left  them. 

Dick  smiled  at  her  wanly. 

"It's  good  of  you  to  come,"  he  told  her  in  a 
faint  voice. 

"I'm  glad  to  come,"  she  said.  "It's  nothing. 
I  only  wish  there  was  more  I  could  do — some- 
thing to  help  you." 

"You  can  help  me,"  he  replied.  "You  are 
helping  me.  Just  to  see  you  again  is — is  a  bless- 
ing. And  I — I  hated  to — go — without  a  chance  to 
speak  to  you  again.  There's  something  I  want 


274   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

to  tell  you."  He  took  her  hand;  and  as  he  looked 
at  it  he  noticed  a  ring  that  he  did  not  remember 
having  seen  there  before.  It  was  her  left  hand 
that  he  had  touched. 

Farrand  had  given  Janet  that  ring  the  evening 
before.  He  had  bought  it  ten  days  earlier,  when 
he  chanced  to  make  a  hurried  trip  to  Mexico  City. 
To  be  sure,  he  had  not  then  received  Janet's 
answer.  But  he  had  not  doubted  his  ability  to 
win  her;  and  when  she  should  at  length  tell  him 
that  she  would  marry  him  he  wanted  to  be  ready 
to  set  every  seal  possible  upon  their  compact. 

As  Dick's  eyes  caught  the  glint  of  the  big  dia- 
mond he  said  nothing  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
looked  up  at  her,  into  her  own  eyes,  which  swam 
with  unshed  tears. 

"It's — it's  from  Farrand?"  he  whispered. 

She  nodded. 

"I  hope  you'll  be  happy!  .  .  .  He's  lucky — 
'Farrand  is!  ...  I  hope  you'll  have  every  good 
thing  that  life  ever  gave  any  one." 

Janet  choked  back  a  sob  as  she  thanked  him. 

"I'll  remember  your  wish — always,"  she  said. 

For  a  little  while  Dick  lay  back  upon  his  pillows 
and  gazed  in  silence  at  the  thatched  roof  above 


TO  RIGHT  THE  WRONG         275 

them.  Then  he  stirred,  and  looked  at  her  again 
questioningly,  as  if  he  had  forgotten  what  he 
wanted  to  say  to  her. 

"Oh — yes!  There's  something  more  you  can 
do  for  me,"  he  told  her.  "I  want  your  forgive- 
ness." 

"Forgiveness?"  she  exclaimed,  wondering. 
"For  what?  Surely  there's  nothing  for  me  to  for- 
give you!" 

"There  is!  Oh,  I've  felt  like  a  thief  every 
time  I  looked  at  you.  I  hated  to  face  you.  I 
despised  myself.  I'd  promised  to  square  myself 
with  you,  in  the  end.  .  .  .  The  end  is  different 
from  what  I  expected." 

"What  is  it?"  Janet  asked  him.  "Nothing 
very  bad — I'm  sure !  I  don't  see  how  you  could 
have  injured  me."  She  wondered  whether  his 
mind  were  not  wandering. 

"It's  about  that  land  of  yours  and  Mr.  Marr's," 
he  explained  then.  "I  discovered  iron  on  my  own 
property  and  on  old  Jose's  as  well.  But  I  wasn't 
satisfied  with  that.  I  suppose  I  was  greedy.  I 
looked  further.  And  I  found  that  the  deposit  ex- 
tended over  a  part  of  your  tract  too.  So  I  hur- 
ried to  get  an  option  on  it — cheap. 

"I  thought  I  was  pulling  off  a  clever  trick.     I 


276   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

was  pleased  with  myself.  But  after  I  met  you  I 
realized  what  I  was  doing — robbing  you !  I  didn't 
feel  so  happy  then.  But  I  was  committed  to  the 
thing.  I  couldn't  back  out.  It  was  too  late  for 
that.  But  I  made  up  my  mind  that  some  day  I'd 
see  that  you  were  repaid.  .  .  ." 

"Don't !"  Janet  protested.  She  saw  that  he  was 
greatly  agitated.  "It's  nothing.  I  was  glad 
enough  of  a  chance  to  sell.  .  .  .  Why — it  was 
just — just  business,  I'm  sure.  Any  one  would  have 
done  as  much.  Don't  let  it  worry  wou.  I'll  never 
feel  the  least  resentment  toward  you — I  promise 
you  that." 

Dick's  fictitious  energy  had  left  him,  now  that 
he  had  at  last  told  her. 

"I've  done — what  I  could,"  he  said  haltingly. 
"They — they'll  tell  you — out  there — what  I've 
done."  He  moved  a  hand  slighdy  in  the  direction 
of  the  adjoining  room.  "But  that's  not  enough. 
I  want  to  know  you've  forgiven  me.  ...  Can 
you  tell  me  that  you  have?" 

"Yes — I've  forgiven  you,"  she  said,  for  she 
saw  that  he  would  not  be  satisfied  until  she  told 
him  that.  "And  I'll  think  of  you  as  being  good 
and  kind  and  true — the  best  sort  of  friend.  That's 
how  I'll  feel  toward  you — just  as  I  always  have." 


TO  RIGHT  THE  WRONG         277 

Dick  smiled  up  at  her.  "Thank  you  I"  he  said. 
Then  he  fell  back  wearily  upon  his  pillows  again, 
completely  exhausted  by  the  effort  of  speaking. 

She  bent  over  him  and  kissed  his  forehead. 
Still  he  lay  motionless.  And  with  that  Janet  left 
him. 

Outside,  with  De  Boer,  she  wept  piteously, 
while  De  Boer  tried  to  comfort  her. 

"Is  there  no  hope?"  she  asked  him,  after  she 
had  grown  calm  once  more. 

"This  Mexican  doctor  says  there  isn't.  He  lost 
a  great  deal  of  blood.  .  .  .  I'm  sorry — but  I  can 
hardly  keep  from  breaking  down  myself.  Miss 
Ashley,  that  boy  is  a  prince.  I  couldn't  love  him 
more  if  he  were  my  own  son.  .  .  .  Do  you  know 
what  he's  done  for  you?"  he  asked  her,  as  a 
curious  look  came  into  his  eyes. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"He  said  you  would  tell  me,"  she  replied  ex- 
pectantly. 

"He  has  made  you  his  sole  heir,"  De  Boer  in- 
formed her. 

"Oh,  no !"  she  cried.    "I  can't  let  him  do  that !" 

"You  must.  It's  the  least  you  can  do  for  him. 
•f  .  .  You  want  him  to  die  happy,  don't  you?" 


278    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"Oh,  yes !    But  it  would  seem  as  if  I  profited  by 
his  dying.     I  can  never  touch  the  money." 

"He  would  have  wished  you  to,  Miss  Ashley." 
In  the  end  De  Boer  prevailed  upon  her. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS 

JANET  had  left  the  rude  hospital  knowing  that  she 
loved  Dick.  And  realizing  that  great  truth  she 
was  convinced  that  she  could  not  marry  Wade 
Farrand.  She  was  sure  that  in  justice  to  Farrand 
as  well  as  to  Dick  and  to  herself  she  had  no  right 
to  marry  him. 

Not  long  after  she  had  returned  to  the  house 
Farrand  came  into  the  library,  where  Janet  sat 
alone.  He  had  just  passed  through  a  very  bad 
quarter  of  an  hour  with  Marr,  who  had  informed 
him  of  his  encounter  with  De  Boer  and  the  fact 
that  the  game  had  gone  against  them.  Farrand's 
feelings,  when  he  came  upon  her,  were  anything 
but  pleasant.  Marr  had  not  minced  matters. 
And  when  he  now  stood  face  to  face  with  Janet, 
whom  he  no  longer  had  the  slightest  desire  to 
marry,  the  situation  became  particularly  trying. 
He  did  not  want  to  talk  with  her  then.  He  did 

279 


not  even  want  to  see  her.  But  he  sat  down  with 
as  good  grace  as  possible. 

"Wade,"  Janet  began,  "I've  something  to  say 
to  you.  I  don't  know  what  you'll  think  of  me — 
the  worst,  I  suppose.  But  I  can't  help  that." 

"What  is  it?"  he  said,  looking  up  in  surprise. 
"What  do  you  mean?"  He  wondered  what 
further  ill  luck  could  befall  him. 

"I  can't  marry  you,  Wade,"  she  said. 

He  turned  from  her  to  hide  the  look  of  satis- 
faction that  he  knew  he  could  not  conceal.  But  in 
another  moment  he  had  risen  to  his  part. 

"Why — Janet!"  he  exclaimed.  "You — you 
shock  me !  You  don't  know  what  you're  saying. 
What  has  happened?  What  have  I  done?" 
Though  he  was  vastly  relieved,  at  the  same  time 
a  certain  feeling  of  uneasiness  would  come  creep- 
ing over  him.  He  hoped  she  had  learned  nothing 
of  his  machinations. 

"It's  nothing  you've  done,"  she  told  him. 
"You've  been  honest  with  me,  I  know.  And  I 
have  tried  to  be  with  you.  But  I  can't  blame 
you  if  you  feel  otherwise.  .  .  .  But  please — 
please  don't  think  of  me  too  hardly!" 

"My  dear  girl — of  course  not!"  he  assured 
her.  "If  you've  changed  your  mind  I  suppose 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS    281 

there's  really  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  face  the 
situation.  It's  a  woman's  prerogative  to  change 
her  mind,  I  know.  But  what's  the  matter?  Why 
this  sudden  decision?" 

"Wade — it's  as  I  feared.  I  don't  love  you.  I 
told  you  before  that  I  was  afraid  I  didn't.  But 
you  said  you  didn't  mind  that.  And  I — I  hoped 
I  would  care  more  for  you  some  day.  .  .  .  Now 
I  know  that  I  never  can.  ...  I  love  Dick  I 
That's  the  reason,  Wade.  I've  just  really  found 
it  out  and  I've  come  straight  to  you  to  tell  you. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  was  the  only  way  to  do." 

"So  that's  the  lay  of  the  land,  is  it?"  He  gave 
a  short  laugh.  "Well,  well !  I  suppose  congratu- 
lations are  in  order,  eh?" 

She  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"How  can  you  say  that?"  she  cried.  "You 
must  know  he  is  dying." 

"Beg  pardon !  I  thought  possibly  he  was  better 
to-day — that  he  had  proposed  to  you,  perhaps,  not 
knowing  that  you  were  already  promised  to  me. 
...  I  meant  no  offense,  I  assure  you.  I  always 
flatter  myself  that  I'm  a  good  loser.  Hello! 
What's  this?"  he  exclaimed,  as  Janet  placed  some- 
thing in  his  hand.  "Oh!  My  ring!  Thanks!" 
He  dropped  the  token  carelessly  into  his  pocket. 


282    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"Well,  Janet,  now  that  our  little  romance  is  so 
soon  a  thing  of  the  past  it's  hardly  worth  men- 
tioning to  any  one — is  it?" 

"I'll  tell  no  one,"  she  replied  coldly.  "I  wish 
to  spare  your  feelings  as  much  as  possible." 

"That's  kind  of  you!  It's  agreed  then,  eh? 
.  .  .  Good  I"  And  with  a  nod  he  left  her. 

"Thank  God,  that's  over!"  she  said  wearily, 
when  he  had  gone. 

Under  the  circumstances  Wade  Farrand  felt 
that  he  would  be  more  comfortable  outside  his 
house.  He  had  no  desire  to  face  either  Marr  or 
Janet  after  what  had  happened.  So  he  strolled 
over  to  the  native  village.  He  had  neglected 
Rosita  of  late.  And  it  occurred  to  him  that  he 
had  best  mend  his  fences. 

As  he  had  expected,  Farrand  found  the  girl 
in  none  too  pleasant  a  frame  of  mind. 

"How's  my  Rosita  to-day?"  he  greeted  her. 
"I  couldn't  stay  away  from  her  any  longer." 

"You  seem  to  have  been  able  to  get  on  very 
well  without  her  for  a  long  time,"  Rosita  told 
him  icily. 

"Business,  my  dear!"  he  explained.  "Besides, 
I  didn't  feel  quite  safe  coming  here  with  that  Pepe 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS    283 

hanging  around.  But  he's  gone  now.  I  fright- 
ened the  beggar  away!" 

"You're  glad  enough  to  have  him  here  when 
there's  dirty  work  to  be  done,"  Rosita  retorted 
with  warmth. 

"Let's  forget  Pepe!"  Farrand  said.  "I  didn't 
come  here  to  quarrel  with  you  about  him — or 
anybody  else.  .  .  .  No!  I  came  to  bring  you 
something,  mi  vida — my  life!  Here!  Give  me 
your  hand  a  moment!"  He  slipped  a  ring — 
Janet's  ring — upon  her  finger. 

Rosita  gave  a  little  cry  of  joy  as  she  examined 

«. 

"Is  it  for  me?"  she  asked  him. 

"For  whom  else  could  it  be,  chica?"  he  an- 
swered, patting  her  shoulder. 

"I  don't  know — unless — unless — it  be  for  the 
American  girl?" 

"Never  fear!"  he  laughed.  "I'll  tell  you 
something,  Rosita.  I  am  surprised  that  you  never 
guessed  it  long  ago.  I  haven't  told  you  because 
I  wanted  to  tease  you.  She  is  in  love  with  Bris- 
tow.  It's  rather  a  joke  on  her,  too.  She'll  wear 
mourning  now,  instead  of  orange  blossoms — 
ha!  ha!" 


284  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

Quickly,  joyfully,  the  girl  turned  to  him — and 
yet  she  could  not  help  doubting. 

"Can  I  believe  you?"  she  demanded. 

"Of  course!  Is  not  this  ring  proof  enough 
that  I  am  not  lying  to  you?" 

"If  the  stone  is  a  real  one "  she  began 

slowly. 

He  laughed  again. 

"There  you  go — suspicious  to  the  last  I  See! 
Here  is  the  bill — receipted!  The  ring  comes 
from  the  finest  shop  in  Mexico  City." 

Rosita  could  not  read.  But  she  took  the  bill 
and  held  it  upside  down  while  she  looked  at  it. 
The  proceeding  appeared  to  satisfy  her. 

As  he  made  his  way  through  the  village,  after 
leaving  the  girl,  Farrand  turned  in  at  a  cafe. 
There  was  a  chattering  knot  of  natives  seated 
around  one  of  the  tables — among  them  an  old 
lawyer  named  Perez.  Farrand  saw  that  he  was 
treating  the  others  and  entertaining  them  with 
some  gossip  at  the  same  time. 

The  cafe-keeper  who  hovered  over  them  de- 
tached himself  reluctantly  from  the  group  and 
came  to  wait  upon  Farrand. 

"Old  Perez  has  had  a  fat  fee,"  he  explained. 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS    285 

"He  drew  a  will  for  an  American  this  morning — 
the  man  who  was  shot." 

"That's  interesting." 

"Perez  says  he  earned  the  money  very  easily," 
the  fellow  continued.  "It  was  only  a  short  will. 
.  .  .  He  bequeathed  everything  to  a  lady — but 
doubtless  you  know  about  that  already,  sehor.  It 
is  the  young  lady  who  is  the  friend  of  the  daughter 
of  Senor  Marr." 

For  a  moment  Farrand  gazed  at  him  open- 
mouthed.  He  was  too  surprised  even  to  swear. 
Then  he  poured  an  enormous  drink  of  brandy  for 
himself  and  tossed  it  off  like  water.  That  was 
only  the  first  of  several  such  libations  with  which 
he  comforted  himself  before  he  started  home- 
wards, steady  upon  his  feet,  clear  as  to  speech, 
but  with  his  brain  aflame. 

So  that  was  Janet's  game!  In 'some  way  she 
had  learned  that  Bristow  was  rich  and  she  had 
contrived  to  inveigle  him  into  leaving  her  his  prop- 
erty. The  brandy  had  loosened  Farrand's  tongue 
and  he  swore  fluently  enough  now — great,  mouth- 
filling  Spanish  oaths.  So  that  was  why  she  had 
thrown  him  over  so  quickly!  She  no  longer  had 
any  use  for  him,  now  that  she  had  a  fortune  in 
sight.  .  .  . 


286   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

He  came  upon  her,  still  alone  in  the  library, 
and  stood  and  glowered  at  her. 

At  first  she  seemed  not  to  realize  that  he  was 
there. 

"Why — what  is  it?  Why  do  you  look  at  me 
like  that?"  she  asked  at  length. 

"So  you  wanted  to  be  honest  with  me,  did  you? 
You  wanted  to  come  straight  to  me  and  tell  me  the 
truth,  eh?" 

"Why — yes!"  she  answered,  wondering. 

"A  damned  queer  notion  you  must  have  of 
truth,"  he  snarled,  "judging  from  the  lies  you 
told  me!" 

"You — you  frighten  me!  You're  not  your- 
self!" she  exclaimed,  quick  to  note  that  some 
change  had  come  over  him. 

"Oh!  I'm  myself,  right  enough!  That's  just 
the  point.  I've  come  to  my  senses  at  last.  I 
know  now  that  I've  let  you  make  a  fool  of  me. 
I  thought  you  were  genuine — that  you  were 
straightforward — sincere.  But  all  the  time  you've 
been  using  me  as  a  foil — playing  me  off  against 
Bristow.  He  was  the  game  you  aimed  at;.  You'd 
no  intention  of  marrying  me  until  you  thought  he 
was  done  for.  Then  I  was  good  enough  for  you 
— until  you  discovered  that  you  could  get  his 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS    287 

money  as  soon  as  he  died.  .  .  .  Well,  I  might 
have  known  you  were  that  kind.  They  say  New 
York  girls  always  play  the  game  of  love  for 
money.  But  I  thought  you  were  different,  some- 
how. I  didn't  pick  you  as  being  mercenary. 
Love!"  He  gave  a  mirthless  laugh.  "You  said 
you  didn't  know  what  love  was.  You  told  the 
truth  for  once,  at  least.  You're  no  better 
than " 

"Stop !"  she  cried.  "Let  me  out  of  this  room !" 
she  demanded  fiercely  as  he  barred  her  way. 

"I  will — when  I'm  ready  to,"  he  taunted  her. 
"You're  not  going  yet.  I've  a  lot  of  things  to 
say  to  you." 

"You've  said  more  than  enough  already." 

"I've  scarcely  begun." 

"I  won't  listen."  She  put  her  hands  over  her 
ears. 

"You  were  always  willing  enough  to  listen  to 
compliments,"  he  sneered.  "Now  you  shall  hear 
some  unpleasant  truths  that  will  be  good  for  your 
soul.  Perhaps  you'll  remember  them  the  next 
time  you  play  fast  and  loose  with  a  man."  He 
caught  her  arms  and  pulled  them  roughly  away 
from  her  head. 


288    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"Let  me  go!"  Janet  cried.  "I  shall  call  for 
help." 

"It  won't  do  you  a  bit  of  good.  Mr.  Marr's 
leaving  unexpectedly.  Your  aunt  and  Sylvia 
walked  over  to  his  car  with  him.  There's  no  one 
in  the  house  but  the  servants  and  you  don't  think 
they'd  interfere,  do  you?" 

She  sank  into  a  chair  then;  and  he  seated  him- 
self facing  her. 

"I  wondered  why  you  were  so  upset  over  Bris- 
tow's  shooting,"  he  resumed.  "Now  I  under- 
stand. You  intended  all  the  time  to  marry  him — 
after  you  heard  about  that  iron  discovery.  And 
that's  why  you  were  so  willing  to  let  him  buy 
Aguacate.  With  you  it  was  a  case  of  'heads  I 
win,  tails  you  lose!'  You  were  bound  to  be  in 
right,  no  matter  what  happened." 

"So  you  knew  about  the  iron,  did  you?"  Janet 
suddenly  asked  him. 

"All  the  time !"  he  said,  caught  off  his  guard  for 
once. 

"And  you  never  mentioned  it  to  me !" 

He  saw  his  mistake  too  late;  but  he  did  what  he 
could  to  put  a  plausible  face  upon  the  matter. 

"I  was  sorry  for  you,  m'dear.  I  hated  to  see 
you  cheated.  But  I  could  do  nothing.  I  was  ready 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS    289 

to  marry  you  just  the  same.    /  didn't  break  faith 
with  you." 

"No — but  I  begin  to  wonder  what  would  have 
happened  if  I  hadn't  come  to  my  senses  when  I 
did.  It  struck  me  that  you  were  not  at  all  loath 
to  let  me  go.  In  fact,  I  hadn't  thought  you  would 
give  me  up  so  easily.  .  .  .  You  say  you've  been 
blind.  You're  not  the  only  one  whose  eyes  have 
been  opened.  I  begin  to  understand  some  things 
now  that  I  didn't  know  about  before.  I  don't  be- 
lieve you  ever  thought  that  Aguacate  would  change 
hands." 

"Why— that's  absurd !"  Farrand  scoffed.  "Ask 
Mr.  Marr.  He  can  tell  you  what  we  thought." 

"Then  you  discussed  the  question,  did  you — 
you  and  he?" 

"I  should  say  we  did.     You  ask  him." 

"I  don't  need  to  ask  him,"  she  replied  quietly. 

Farrand  shot  a  quick  glance  of  suspicion  at  her. 

"He  hasn't  been  talking  to  you,  has  he?"  he 
asked,  fearful  lest  Marr  should  have  tried  to 
shift  the  blame  upon  him  in  some  way. 

"No!  He  hasn't  been  talking  to  me,"  she 
said.  "But  I  came  upon  a  highly  interesting 
tableau  this  morning." 


29o  THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"You  mean  De  Boer  and "  he  started  to 

ask. 

"So  you  know  about  that,  too?  Yes — that's 
what  I  mean.  They  didn't  realize  how  their 
voices  carried.  I  couldn't  help  hearing  them. 
And  that's  why  I  went  into  the  room  when  I  did. 
I  thought  it  might  prevent  something — dreadful 
— from  happening." 

Farrand  leaped  to  his  feet  at  that. 

"Why  didn't  you  keep  out?"  he  cried,  so  angry 
that  he  hardly  realized  what  he  was  saying. 
"Everything  would  have  been  all  right  then! 
You  spoiled  the  game,  you " 

"Ah!  That's  what  I  thought,  Wade!  You 
wanted  to  marry  me  when  you  believed  I  was  go- 
ing to  be  rich.  .  .  .  And  how  glad  you  were 
when  I  gave  you  back  your  ring!  You'd  seen 
Mr.  Marr  then;  and  he'd  told  you  about  the  con- 
tract, hadn't  he?" 

But  Farrand  was  silent.  He  only  stared  at  her 
stupidly. 

"You  don't  need  to  answer,"  she  told  him. 
"Your  face  gives  you  away."  She  rose  and  moved 
toward  the  door. 

"Wait  a  moment !"  he  cried  after  her.  "Janet ! 
Don't  go !  You've  got  everything  wrong.  I  can't 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS    291 

let  you  go,  thinking  such  things.  Listen  to  me  a 
moment !  Perhaps  we  can  be  more  to  each  other 
than  ever,  once  we  clear  away  our  misunder- 
standings. ...  I  was  hasty.  My  pride  was  hurt. 
I  never  meant  what  I  said  just  now." 

She  turned  and  faced  him  from  the  doorway. 

"I'm  afraid,  Wade,  that's  just  the  trouble  with 
you.  You  never  say  quite  what  you  mean." 

She  left  him  then. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

HOMING 

SPRING  was  at  hand.  Janet  had  grown  to  think 
of  Mexico  as  a  land  of  perpetual  sunshine.  But 
in  the  month  that  had  passed  since  she  bade 
Sylvia  Marr  good-by  at  Rio  Chico  Nature  had 
wrought  her  inevitable  change  upon  the  once  smil- 
ing face  of  the  land.  Occasionally  the  clouds  that 
now  gathered  daily  let  loose  a  sudden  deluge 
as  if  to  show  what  was  in  store,  and  to  warn 
dilatory  tourists  that  they  had  best  book  their 
passage  North.  From  her  windows  in  her  Vera 
Cruz  hotel  Janet  watched  those  tropical  storms 
sweep  over  the  roofs  of  the  city.  The  very 
abruptness  with  which  they  descended  fascinated 
her.  It  seemed  almost  as  if  they  were  alive — 
animated  by  the  same  quick  passions  that  alter- 
nately smoldered  and  flared  up  in  the  people  who 
dwelt  in  that  haven  of  mercurial  races. 

Enamored  as  she  had  once  been  of  that  allur- 
292 


HOMING  293 

ing  land,  the  spell  that  it  had  laid  upon  her  was 
now  broken.  Duplicity,  treachery,  violence — she 
had  expected  to  find  such  defects  in  the  characters 
of  some  of  the  natives.  And  now,  after  the  ex- 
periences she  had  passed  through,  she  had  come 
to  believe  that  the  tropics  exert  an  evil  influence 
upon  Northerners  as  well.  What  was  the  bane- 
ful force  that  weakened  the  moral  fiber  of  Anglo- 
Saxons  who  lived  there?  She  did  not  know.  But 
she  felt  that  she  could  not  get  away  too  quickly 
into  the  sane,  cool  North.  The  very  air  was  op- 
pressive. Janet  counted  the  days  until  the  ship 
should  sail.  And  above  all  she  was  eager  to  get 
Dick  into  a  more  bracing  climate. 

For  Dick  did  not  die.  He  had  rallied  when  the 
end  seemed  in  sight.  Surgeons  had  come  to  Rio 
Chico  and  after  a  consultation  they  had  decided 
to  move  the  patient  to  Vera  Cruz. 

Janet,  with  her  aunt  and  De  Boer,  had  left  on 
the  same  train  with  him.  And  for  four  weeks 
Dick  had  lain  convalescent  in  a  hospital,  where 
Janet  had  seen  him  as  often  as  doctors  and  nurses 
would  allow  her.  It  was  the  best  tonic  in  the 
world  for  him. 

Bit  by  bit  they  had  pieced  together  what  they 
knew  of  the  happenings  of  those  eventful  days 


294   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

that  were — happily — gone,  until  the  story  of  the 
conspiracy  was  fairly  complete.  Many  of  its  de- 
tails they  would  never  know.  But  that  did  not 
concern  them  greatly.  To  Dick,  what  mattered 
most  was  the  fact  that  he  had  won;  to  Janet,  that 
Dick  was  alive  and  would  soon  be  himself  again. 
De  Boer  had  long  since  left  them,  after  mak- 
ing sure  that  Dick  was  well  out  of  danger.  More- 
over, he  was  not  slow  to  perceive  that  the  patient 
would  not  lack  care,  with  Janet  and  her  aunt 
to  watch  over  him.  So  he  hurried  away,  for 
there  were  numberless  business  matters  crying  for 
his  attention.  And  above  all,  he  wanted  the  satis- 
faction of  forcing  that  long  deferred  land  deal 
upon  Julian  Marr. 

De  Boer  returned  to  Vera  Cruz  in  the  nick  of 
time  to  wish  the  voyagers  Godspeed.  They  were 
already  on  board  the  ship  when  he  joined  them, 
together  with  some  legal-looking  gentlemen.  And 
Dick  knew  as  soon  as  he  saw  him  that  his  old 
chief  was  in  high  spirits. 

"I've  good  news  for  you!"  De  Boer  cried  as 
he  shook  hands  with  Dick.  "The  best  of  news! 
Aguacate's  as  good  as  ours!  All  we  need  now 
is  Miss  Ashley's  signature." 


HOMING  295 

"You  know  you  can  have  that,"  Janet  assured 
him.  And  they  went  forthwith  into  the  saloon, 
where  she  affixed  her  name  to  the  documents  De 
Boer  had  brought  with  him.  .  .  .  "Congratula- 
tions, Mr.  De  Boer!  And  to  you  too,  Dick  I"  she 
said  as  she  rose  from  the  small  writing-table. 

They  thanked  her. 

"So  Marr  capitulated?"  Dick  remarked  to  De 
Boer. 

"Yes — after  standing  me  off  as  long  as  he  could. 
I  thought  we'd  have  to  kidnap  him,  in  order  to 
talk  to  him.  But  we  caught  him  at  last." 

"I  was  afraid  we'd  have  to  bring  suit  against 
him,"  Dick  said.  "And  he's  a  power  in  Mexico — 
there's  no  denying  that.  Of  course,  I  felt  sure  we 
were  safe.  But  he  might  have  made  us  no  end  of 
trouble." 

"Yes !  But  you  see,  I  promised  him  more  pub- 
licity than  he  cared  for,"  De  Boer  explained  with 
a  grin.  "There's  the  making  of  a  series  of  very 
interesting  articles  on  the  South  Eastern  Railway 
Company — just  the  sort  of  stuff  for  an  enter- 
prising writer  to  sell  to  a  sensational  magazine  at 
home.  And  you  know  Marr  is  fond  of  raking 
American  capital  into  his  ventures.  Big  Business 


296   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

isn't  in  any  too  good  odor  just  now,  as  it  is;  this 
would  be  a  bad  time  for  a  scandal." 

"What  did  the  old  pirate  say?"  Dick  inquired. 

"Called  me  a  blackmailer !  Perhaps  I  am.  But 
I  was  only  after  our  rights.  What  really  clinched 
my  argument  was  my  informing  him  that  Miss 
Ashley  never  swallowed  that  yarn  he  told  her 
when  she  caught  him  pointing  a  gun  at  me.  I 
think  he'd  been  congratulating  himself  over  the 
way  he  slipped  out  of  the  hole  he  was  in.  He 
certainly  looked  surprised  when  I  explained  that 
she  not  only  knew  he  was  threatening  me,  but  had 
heard  a  good  deal  of  our  conversation  as  well." 
According  to  De  Boer,  Marr  and  his  daughter 
were  leaving  Mexico  at  once.  "Their  special 
train  was  all  ready  to  start  when  I  came  away 
yesterday,"  he  said. 

Neither  Dick  nor  Janet  inquired  for  Wade 
Farrand.  She  had  told  Dick  that  her  engagement 
was  broken.  Why  it  was  so,  Dick  had  no  idea. 
It  was  enough  for  him  merely  to  know  that  Janet 
was  not  going  to  throw  herself  away  upon  a  rotter 
like  Farrand. 

"I'll  see  you  inside  of  a  month,"  De  Boer  prom- 
ised. "Now  that  we  know  exactly  where  we  stand 


HOMING  297 

I  want  to  get  our  nodulizing  plant  started  and 
I'm  coming  North  in  a  few  weeks  to  buy  ma- 
chinery. 

"You  mustn't  plan  to  come  back  before  fall, 
Dick,"  he  continued.  "You  won't  know  Las 
Alegrias  then.  There'll  be  a  town  there.  And 
I'll  have  a  house  ready  for  you.  If  you  find  you're 
uneasy  for  want  of  something  to  do  when  you  get 
in  shape  you  might  draw  some  plans  of  the  sort 
of  palace  you  would  like.  I'll  guarantee  that  the 
Company  will  build  anything  you  ask  for." 

"Any  old  kind  of  shack  will  do  for  me,"  Dick 
said. 

"The  president  of  the  East  Coast  Mining  Com- 
pany must  observe  the  conventions,"  De  Boer  told 
him.  "You'll  have  to  live  in  a  fashion  befitting 
your  office.  No  more  palm-thatch  for  you,  my 
boy!" 

Mr.  Bristow,  to  his  extreme  annoyance,  flushed 
to  the  roots  of  his  hair. 

"You're  joking "  he  protested. 

De  Boer  laughed  at  him. 

"You  ask  my  brother  about  it  when  you  reach 
New  York,"  he  said.  "He'll  tell  you  whether  I'm 
joking  or  not.  .  .  .  There's  that  infernal  bugle  I 
I  must  get  ashore." 


298    THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

From  his  launch  he  waved  to  them  until  they 
were  out  of  sight.  Thomas  De  Boer  had  great 
confidence  in  Dick's  abilities;  but  as  he  watched  his 
young  friend  leaning  upon  the  rail  between  Janet 
and  her  aunt  he  could  not  help  hoping  that  Dick 
would  realize  what  way  lay  happiness. 

Slowly  the  ship  slipped  away;  and  soon  they 
had  left  the  emerald  watdrs  of  the  shelving  shore 
behind  them,  to  enter  the  wondrous  blue  of  the 
Gulf.  After  the  heat  of  the  city  it  was  delightful 
to  lie  beneath  the  deck-awning  and  feel  the  soft 
breeze  upon  one's  face.  Dick  discovered  that  he 
was  quite  content  to  rest  in  his  steamer-chair. 
After  his  long  weeks  of  convalescence  the  fact 
that  he  was  actually  going  home  was  sufficiently  ex- 
citing in  itself.  And  what  with  the  bustle  of  sail- 
ing-time and  the  chatter  incident  to  leave-taking 
he  was  forced  to  admit  to  himself  that  he  was 
still  far  from  strong.  But  under  the  brace  of  the 
salt  air  and  the  change  of  scene  Dick's  strength 
fast  returned.  By  their  third  day  out  he  paced  the 
deck  so  energetically  as  to  worry  his  two  feminine 
fellow-travelers,  who  were  afraid  lest  he  over- 
exert himself. 

During  their  stay  in  Vera  Cruz  Janet  and  Miss 


H  HOMING  299 

Browning  had  come  to  exercise  a  mild  sort  of 
tyranny  over  him.  They  had,  indeed,  virtually 
adopted  Dick;  and  in  spite  of  his  protests  against 
their  troubling  themselves  so  much  on  his  account 
he  had  fairly  basked  under  the  warmth  of  their 
attentions.  It  was  years  since  he  had  known  what 
it  was  to  have  solicitous  women-folk  hovering 
around  him,  plumping  his  pillows,  bringing  him 
flowers,  reading  to  him. 

"You'll  spoil  me,"  he  told  Janet  laughingly. 
"How  can  I  ever  go  back  to  Mexico  to  a  bachelor's 
life,  after  all  this  luxury?"  It  was  when  she  in- 
sisted on  wrapping  a  steamer-rug  about  him. 

"You'll  soon  escape  from  our  clutches,"  she 
said.  "We  simply  have  to  look  after  you  now. 
Aunt  and  I  promised  Mr.  De  Boer  we  would.  But 
as  soon  as  we  come  in  sight  of  Sandy  Hook  I 
shall  turn  you  adrift  to  shift  for  yourself.  I 
know  your  pride  and  independence.  You  wouldn't 
for  worlds  have  any  of  your  friends  see  you  be- 
ing mollycoddled." 

"Wouldn't  I?"  he  exclaimed.  "I'm  coming  to 
your  house  every  day  I'm  in  New  York,  to  re- 
port progress  and  receive  instructions — that  is, 
if  you'll  let  me." 


300   THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

"Of  course  I'll  let  you,"  she  said,  "if  you  really 
want  to." 

"If  I  want  to  I  My  dear  girl — you  don't  sup- 
pose you  can  ever  shake  me  now,  do  you?" 

"You'll  soon  forget  Aunt  and  me  when  you're 
hard  at  work  again." 

"Why  do  you  always  drag  in  your  aunt?  Not 
that  she  isn't  a  dear  soul — she  has  petted  me  like 
a  mother.  But  I'm  not  thinking  of  her  all  the 
time.  I'm  talking  about  you  now,  Janet." 

They  were  alone  in  a  secluded  corner  of  the 
deck.  And  much  as  Janet  thrilled  under  her  com- 
panion's sudden  fervor  she  was  too  thoroughly 
feminine  not  to  resort  instinctively  to  womanly 
evasion. 

"You  must  keep  well  covered,"  she  reminded 
him,  with  calm  disregard,  apparently,  of  what  he 
was  saying.  "Put  your  arm  under  the  rug!" 

"I  won't!"  Dick  rebelled.  And  he  promptly 
captured  the  hand  that  tried  to  pull  the  blanket 
up  to  his  chin.  "Listen  to  me  a  moment!  I'm 
not  going  to  forget  you — because  when  I  go  back 
I'm  going  to  take  you  with  me." 

"It's  not  so  easy  to  kidnap  people  in  New  York 
as  it  is  in  Mexico,"  she  parried.  But  despite  her 
light  words  her  heart  was  beating  furiously. 


HOMING  301 

"I'm  not  intending  to  use  Greaser  methods,"  he 
told  her.  "I'm  counting  on — love — Janet.  For  a 
long  time  I've  known  that  I  loved  you." 

"How  long?"  she  asked  him. 

"Well — a  month,  almost!" 

"But  that's  only  a  short  time." 

"It's  growing  longer  every  day,"  he  declared. 
"It  will  be  half  a  year  by  fall.  .  .  .  Isn't  that 
long  enough,  Janet?" 

And  though  her  answer  was  so  low  he  could 
not  hear  it,  Dick  swiftly  did  something  then  that 
left  no  doubt  at  all  in  Janet's  mind  that  he  had 
understood. 

After  that  there  was  no  sound  as  they  sat  silent 
for  a  while,  except  the  muffled  throb  of  the  ship's 
engines  and  the  swish  of  the  water  as  it  fell  away 
from  her  side.  But  they  did  not  hear  those  things. 
In  their  ears  was  the  rustle  of  palm  trees  in  the 
wind;  and  in  their  eyes  a  flood  of  white  sun- 
light. 

At  last  Dick  turned  to  her. 

"That  old  Spanish  don  must  have  been  a  seer. 
Now  I  know  why  he  named  my  place  'Las 
Alegrias,'  "  he  said.  "I  know  why  he  called  it  the 
'Lands  of  Joyfulness.' ' 

THE  END 


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STORIES  OF  WESTERN   LIFE 


TREASURE  AND  TROUBLE,  by  Geraldine  Bonner. 

The  wild  and  glowing  golden  West;  a  hold-up;  a  buried  treasure; 
outlaws  of  the  excitingly  adventurous  type,  and  something  new,  too, 
in  the  outlaw  line  in  the  shape  of  a  Social  Pirate;  real  dyed-in-the- 
wool  bandits :  miners  wTio  delve  for  the  riches  of  the  Earth ;  dazzling- 
ly  beautiful  women ;  youth — and  Love,  vivid  and  beautiful.. 

THE  SHERIFF  OF  BADGER,  by  George  E.  Pattullo. 

Lafe  Johnson — strong,  brave,  big-hearted  cowboy  of  the  higher 
type — through  his  courage  in  routing  a  gun-fighter,  is  hailed  as  a 
hero  and  made  Sheriff  of  Badger,  a  ranch  town  in  the  Southwest. 
The  story  is  more  than  interesting;  it  is  exciting,  and  the  vein  of 
romance  running  through  it  adds  to  its  strength  as  a  first  class  breezy 
Western  ranch  yarn. 

WOLFVILLE  FOLKS,  by  Alfred  Henry  Lewis. 

Here  is  another  "Wolfville"  book.  The  characters  are  of  the 
picturesque  cowboy  type.  "Doc"  Seely,  "Cherokee  Bill,"  "Faro 
Nell,"  "The  Rose  of  Wolfville."  etc.  The  novel  is  full  of  Western 
philosophy,  pistol  play,  gambling  duel,  and  a  remarkable  series  of 
romance  and  adventures.  A  lively  cowboy  novel. 

BILLY  FORTUNE,  by  William  R.  Lighton. 

Billy  Fortune,  able  cow-puncher  of  Wyoming,  is  a  chap  for  whom 
things  are  always  happening.  Billy  is  a  lover  of  life  in  all  its  heights 
and  depths,  with  a  special  fondness  for  the  frail  sex.  There  is  plenty 
of  swift  comedy  action  in  this  story  and  not  a  line  of  melancholy. 
And  incidentally  it  gives  one  a  splendid  picture  of  the  jocund  cow 
country  of  Wyoming. 

THE  COAST  OF  OPPORTUNITY,  by  Page  Philips. 

Author  of  "The  Trail  of  the  Waving  Palm" 

Unmistakably  a  work  struck  hot  from  the  forge  of  human  ex- 
perience, this  rapid-action  story  yields  a  wealth  of  intrigue  and  ad- 
venture to  all  lovers  of  stirring  romance. 

THE    TRAIL    OF    THE  WAVING    PALM,   by    Page 

Philips. 

"A  story  of  the  open  that  is  highly  captivating  throughout." — 
Cincinnati  Times- Star. 

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ADVENTURE,  ROMANCE  AND  LOVE 

THE  RED  LANTERN,  by  Edith  Wherry. 

A  novel  of  deep  under-currents,  with  a  theme  that  wakes  the 
pulses  of  the  heart  and  fills  the  imagination  with  the  irresistible  lure 
oi  secret  Asia. 

THE  SIGN  OF  FREEDOM,  by  Arthur  Goodrich. 

The  pinnacle  of  real  old-fashioned,  bred-in-the-bone  patriotism, 
made  militant  by  love,  tender  and  true,  and  steadfast,  is  the  theme  of 
this  story — and  the  hero,  David  Warburton,  like  the  David  of  old,  is  a 
"Corker."  You  will  love  his  absorbing  tale. 

THE  AZURE  ROSE,  by  Reginald  Wright  Kauffman. 

A  delightful  love  romance  of  a  young  American :  handsome,  witty 
and  daring — and  a  beautiful  girl :  attractive,  mysterious  and  coming 
nobody  knows  whence.  Set  against  the  picturesque  background  of 
the  Latin  Quarter  of  Paris. 

UNEASY  MONEY,  by  Pelham  Grenville  Wodehouse. 

Clean,  clever,  packed  full  of  wit  and  humor,  like  all  of  Wode- 
house's  tales,  in  this  one  he  outdoes  himself.  Imagine  yourself  trying 
to  give  away  a  fortune,  and,  finding  the  one  girl  to  give  it  to — who 
won't  have  it  at  any  price — a  bully  good  yarn. 

WOLF-LURE,  by  Agnes  and  Egerton  Castle. 

Love,  Adventure  Political  Intrigue,  Mystery  Rivalry,  Vaulting  Am- 
bition. Pride  which  goeth  before  a  fall,  and  the  light  pride  of  per- 
sonal honor  and  of  conquest — all  are  here  in  this  amazingly  absorb- 
ing tale  of  the  "Greatest  Thing  in  the  World" — Love. 

UP  THE  ROAD  WITH  SALLIE,  by  Frances  R.  Sterrett. 

This  tale  of  a  most  astounding  abduction  told  by  the  author  of 
"The  Jam  Girl!"  will  thrill  you  with  the  most  surprising  adventures 
you  have  ever  encountered.  Sallie  Waters'  plot  for  the  winning  of  a 
fortune — and  her  sweetheart,  too,  is  compelling  and  fascinating. 

HIS  DEAR  UNINTENDED,  by  J.  B.  Ellis. 

A  delightful  story  with  thrills  aplenty  when  a  bewitching  girl  ap- 
pears mysteriously  out  of  the  night  and  exerts  a  strange  influence 
over  several  people. 

THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON,  Anonymous. 

A  work_  of  ^intense  and  throbbing  humanity,  appearing  in  the 
cloak  of  fiction,  in  which  the  moral  is  sound  throughout  and  plain  to 
see. 


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DETECTIVE  AND 
MYSTERY   STORIES 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    NIGHT    WIND,    by    Varick 
Vanardy. 

Another — and  the  greatest  and  best  one — of  Varick  Vanardy's 
compelling  and  thrilling  NIGHT  WIND  romances  which  will  hold 
you  under  the  lamp-shade  in  the  easy  chair  until  you  have  finished 
reading  it. 

THE  TWO-FACED  MAN,  by  Varick  Vanardy. 

Plots  and  counterplots  appear  with  great  frequency  in  this  quick- 
moving,  spirited  detective  story.  It  abounds  with  many  dramatic 
situations. 

THE  GIRL  BY  THE  ROADSIDE,  by  Varick  Vanardy. 

An  ingenious  thrilling  mystery  story  woven  about  a  charming 
•woman  who  descends  from  nowhere  or  anywhere  upon  the  bungalow 
of  a  youthful  but  confirmed  bachelor. 

THE  SECRET  OF  THE  NIGHT,  by  Gaston  Leroux. 

.As  a  narrative  of  mystery,  wrought  out  in  the  most  interesting 
and  thrilling  manner,  "The  Secret  of  the  Night"  is  without  a  peer. — 
Salt  Lake  City  Tribune. 

THE  GREEN  TREE  MYSTERY,  by  Roman  Doublcday. 

The  work  of  solving  the  mystery  develops  into  a  series  of  ex- 
citing experiences  filled  to  the  brim  with  thrills  and  into  which  are 
woven  romance,  intrigue,  confidence  and  treachery. 

THE  INNOCENCE  OF  FATHER  BROWN,  by  Gilbert 
K.  Chesterton. 

Author  of  "The  Wisdom  of  Father  Brown,"  etc. 
Father  Brown  has  a  penchant  for  delving  into  the  mysterious  and 
displays  acute  mental  acumen   in  the  solution  of  these  mysteries. 

THE  WISDOM  OF  FATHER  BROWN,  by  Gilbert  K. 
Chesterton. 

As  a  detective.  Father  Brown  outdoes  Sherlock  Holmes  and  sur- 
passes Lupin.  Those  who  read  and  enjoyed  "The  Innocence  of 
Father  Brown"  will  be  eager  to  read  Mr.  Chesterton's  further  series. 


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